Faramir's story
by Lirenel
Summary: Faramir. Brother of Boromir, son of Denethor. But who is he really, and how did he live?WARNING deals with child abuse. Reposted with a few changes.
1. Chapter 1

Hiya! Elen sila lumenn omentielvo. I do not own Lord of the Rings, they belong to Tolkien. This story involves child abuse. I hope you can see the horror of that atrocity and the effects it has on children. Rated PG-13 for violence. 

**Author update:** Hello. I'm re-posting 'Faramir's story' after changing a few things (nothing drastic) and editing. I just wanted to smooth things out a bit.  

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Denethor son of Ecthelion gazed into the eyes of his new bride Finduilas, daughter of Adrahil of Dol Amroth. When he first met the young woman, the Steward's heir had fallen instantly in love. Now they were married, together forever. Yet sometimes he wondered if she loved him as much as he loved her. As they walked through the gardens, arm in arm, Denethor gathered his courage and asked her. "Finduilas, do you love me?" Finduilas seemed startled by the question, but as she stared into his eyes she saw his anxiety.

"Denethor, I love you more than anything on this earth. You are my stars and my sea. I will always and forever love you." Her husband smiled, content that he held the love of his wife and they walked the gardens, enjoying being with each other.

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 This was just the first introductory chapter, more will come. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

See disclaimer chapter 1

A/N: This story is AU, but I tried to make it so that it would fit around the real story. 

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Silence crept through the halls of the palace in Minas Tirith. The servants went about their duties speaking only in whispers. Once in a while they glanced towards the room where Steward Denethor's wife, Finduilas, lay in bed, slowly dying. 

            None really knew _why_ she was dying. Most believed that the Lady was perishing from grief, being away from her beloved Dol Amroth. They said that she withered because her husband did not have time for her with his new duties as Steward. Yet they guessed wrong. Finduilas's body had betrayed her, her own cells rapidly killing her in a disease that none truly knew about. Cancer, for that is what it was, had claimed her and Denethor could do nothing for his love. Now he sat by her bed, her hand in his, willing Finduilas to live, in vain. 

            "Denethor," Her voice was soft and weak with pain. "please bring the boys in. I wish to say good-bye." Denethor nodded, sending a servant to fetch his two sons. As they waited, Finduilas decided to say farewell to her husband, sensing the end was near. "Denethor, please be strong for the boys, they will need their father. Remember that both of them love you and need you to love them in return." Her face softened as she smiled sadly at Denethor. "Remember also that I love you." Denethor kissed her hand as the door opened and the servant came in, followed by the two young lords. 

            The two walked towards their mother, the elder putting on a brave front while the younger struggled to hold back tears at the sight of his mother looking so weak. Finduilas spoke to ten-year old Boromir first. "Sweetie I have to leave soon. I need you to take care of your brother for me, can you do that?" Boromir nodded. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized that his mother was dying. Seeing this, Finduilas raised a weak hand to brush them away. "Now be a good boy. I love you so much."

            She turned to look at five-year old Faramir. Not being able to take it any longer, the boy burst into sobs and threw himself on the bed and into his mother's arms. Finduilas held him gently as he cried, humming softly until his sobs became sniffles. Still holding Faramir, she told him, "Love, do not be so sad. You still have Daddy and Boromir here. And I'm sure Uncle Imrahil will be happy to come visit anytime."

            Faramir sniffled again. "Why do you have to go?"

            Finduilas wanted to cry at the sight of her son so heartbroken. "Love, I wish there was another way, but there isn't. Faramir," she brought his head up till she was looking straight into his eyes, gray like her own. "know this now. I love you more than anything else on earth. You are my stars and my sea. I will ever and always love you." Faramir smiled and snuggled against his mother's side, not noticing when she breathed her last.

            Denethor felt his heart break. His beloved wife had left him. His gaze turned to Boromir who had lost control of his tears, yet managed to keep from collapsing into sobs. Then he looked upon his younger son. Denethor's heart hardened against the boy. Faramir had stolen his wife's love. Although part of his soul screamed that this thought was false, Denethor paid no head to it. Finduilas's fateful last words caused a rift between father and younger son that would not heal. It was the beginning of Denethor's resentment and harshness towards young Faramir.

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I gave Finduilas cancer because I believe that only elves can die of a broken heart. Finduilas has only a little elvish blood in her. The next chapter will be longer, I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

See disclaimer chapter 1

A/N: This is when the violence starts, so be warned. It is also longer than my other chapters.

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            "What is so interesting about that book that you won't practice your sword fighting against me?" demanded thirteen-year old Boromir. The young lord was irritated by his younger brother's refusal to fight, for there was no one else that Boromir felt comfortable asking. Eight-year old Faramir looked up from his perch on the balcony overlooking the western side of Minas Tirith.

            "I'm reading about Isildur and the Battle of the Last Alliance. You would like it, there is a lot of fighting."

            "I don't want to read about fighting, I want to do it! Please little brother!" Faramir sighed and closed his book. He couldn't say no to him. Boromir was his best friend, the one who protected him from their father's harsh words. Besides, maybe if he fought more his father would not think him so weak. Faramir knew his father looked down at the fact that he loved books more than swords and tried his hardest to be a better fighter. "Alright Boromir, I'll fight you. I don't know why, though, you always beat me."

            Boromir grinned as they walked towards the practice fields. "Perhaps today is the day you beat me little brother." He laughed as Faramir rolled his eyes at the statement. Boromir was older and stronger and practiced much more than his brother. Slinging one arm over Faramir's shoulders, the two brothers laughed together and Faramir almost forgot that it was the fifteenth of the month.

            Unfortunately Faramir was reminded of the date at dinner that night. It was a tradition of the Stewardship that the Steward would spend time with his children after dinner every two months on the ides. Faramir sat quietly as he ate with his father and brother. Boromir told their father about their practice and Faramir flinched when his brother mentioned that he had wanted to read instead. He watched as Denethor drank several glasses of wine, more than usual. Faramir sighed inwardly as he realized that tonight would be no different than the other times he had met alone with his father. 

            After dinner, Denethor and Boromir retired to the Steward's study where they spent a half an hour talking, as tradition required. Faramir knew that his father actually enjoyed his time with his elder son and wished that Denethor would feel the same way about him. Yet he knew it was not so, and as he entered his father's study, all he could do was stare at the ground and hope that Denethor was not too drunk. He unconsciously rubbed his cheek while waiting for Denethor to notice him. 'Please let tonight be different.' He thought to himself. 'Please let Father be in a good mood.' Yet his prayers went unanswered as his father's piercing stare settled on him.

            Denethor stood up and walked over to his son. "Faramir, your brother told me that you didn't want to practice fighting today, preferring to read instead. Is this true."

            "Yes sir." Faramir spoke softly, not wanting to look the Steward in the eyes. His eyes always upset Denethor, for they looked so much like those of his late wife.

            "This is unacceptable! No son of mine should prefer books to fighting. What kind of warrior would you make? You are weak, Faramir, and weak is inexcusable. Until I say otherwise, you may not read unless for your studies."

            Faramir was shocked. "But Father, why can't I read? That's not fair!" He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, for they had roused his father's anger. 

            Denethor grabbed Faramir's right arm in one hand. "Not fair? Life is not fair. If it was, your mother would still be alive and I wouldn't have such a weakling for a son!" The Steward squeezed his son's arm tighter as tears of pain threatened to fall from the boy's eyes.

            "Please, Father, stop! You're hurting me!" The reek of alcohol on Denethor's breath pervaded his senses. The Steward was drunk and not fully aware of what he was doing.

            Denethor glared at his son. "Life is pain, boy, you need to remember that!" Faramir felt sick as he heard and felt the bone in his arm snap. When he cried out in pain his father backhanded him. "Go away, I don't want to have to deal with you tonight."   

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I never like Denethor, and this made me dislike him even more. Don't worry, Faramir will get help. Oh and the ides are the middle of each month, usually the 15th. Also if you remember your Caesar, he was told to "Beware the Ides of March"


	4. Chapter 4

See disclaimer chapter 1

Reviewer Responses

JediKnightBalthasar= To answer your question about Boromir, he _doesn't_ know that Denethor abuses Faramir physically. Faramir doesn't tell him and Denethor sure wouldn't. Boromir also is as loyal as Lassie to his father and wouldn't conceive that he would hurt his brother. I will show Boromir a little kinder though. Thanks for reviewing, hope you like the next part.

IceAngel= Yah I know about Finduilas, but I didn't like it so I changed it. I figured that they wouldn't know about cancer and that it would seem to them that she died from loneliness. 

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Just to caution you, this will be a very long story. I have worked ahead and so far it is over 40 pages. I may have to make it two stories. Tell me what you think!

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Cradling his broken arm, Faramir ran out of the room and out of the palace. He headed down to the Sixth Level, straight for the house of the healer Ioreth. While Ioreth worked at the Houses of Healing, her daughter Iorwyn worked at the house, healing all whom would ask for little or no pay. The middle-aged woman had treated his wounds before and Faramir trusted her greatly, for she reminded him of his own mother. As he stood on the doorstep, his strength failed and he swallowed a sob as he knocked desperately on the door with his left hand. The pain in his arm grew and he felt faint. After what seemed like eternity, the door opened and Faramir fell into Iorwyn's arms. Seeing the state of the young lord, Iorwyn quickly shut the door and led him to the bed where he sat down. Sitting next to him, the healer gently probed the injury. 

"Lord Faramir, how did you come to break your arm so?" Faramir thought quickly. 

"I…I f…fell and l…landed on m…my arm." He explained, still holding back his tears. Iorwyn examined the arm and frowned at the bruise that surrounded the break. Something about it wasn't right, but she couldn't think what.

"My lord, I am going to have to set this. It will hurt, but then you will feel better, I promise." Faramir nodded and she quickly set the bone before he could tense up. The blood washed out of the boy's face and he could hold off unconsciousness no longer. 

With Faramir asleep, Iorwyn was free to examine the bruise more carefully. Her frown deepened as she observed four thin bruises extending from the main bruise and a fifth slender bruise encircling the boy's arm in the opposite direction. It looked almost as if…Iorwyn gasped as she realized that the bruise was in the form of a hand! Someone had broken Faramir's arm. She stared grimly at the arm as she wrapped linen strips around it as a cast. Iorwyn had a sinking feeling that she knew who was responsible.

            After her work was finished, Iorwyn gathered the sleeping Faramir into her arms and headed toward the Seventh Level. The guards to the palace knew her and so let her pass. Fulla, a friend of Iorwyn's who worked in the palace, led them up to Faramir's room where the healer laid him down on his bed. The small boy curled up into a ball on his left side and whimpered in his sleep. Iorwyn frowned as she left the room. Shutting the door behind her, she turned to Fulla. "My friend, something bothers me about his arm. He said he fell and broke it, yet the bruise he has tells me that something else was responsible. Or should I say some_one _else." Fulla looked away, not wanting to meet her friend's eye. "Fulla, Lord Faramir comes to me every other month with some sort of injury, all of which have been caused by someone. What do you have to say about this?" The servant girl looked around before answering quietly.

            "Iorwyn, I cannot say much, it is too dangerous. Yet because you are my friend and because I care about the boy I will tell you what I can.Every other month, the Lord Denethor speaks to each of his sons separately, after dinner. Sometimes Lord Faramir comes out with no more than a hurt soul, but many times he leaves injured. I fear it is getting worse." Iorwyn's heart constricted. How could a father hurt his own child so? And one so sweet and innocent as Faramir! 

            "Fulla, we must do something about this! We can not let this continue, Lord Faramir is in danger!" Fulla shook her head, frightened.

            "No, we can do nothing. We are servants, even you for Lord Denethor is our Steward and all citizens of Gondor are his servants. You cannot go against him. All we can do is heal Lord Faramir's injuries until he is old enough to defend himself."

            Iorwyn's eyes blazed in anger. "Do nothing! How can you even suggest that? We cannot even be sure that Lord Faramir will survive another encounter! We have to do something Fulla!" Fulla again shook her head and turned away.

            "I cannot help you Iorwyn. I cannot go against the Steward." As the servant disappeared down the hall Iorwyn's eyes hardened in determination. "If you will not help me my friend, then I shall help Lord Faramir myself."

~*~

            Denethor sat in his study, his mind wandering. Whenever he tried to work, the face of his son flew in front of him, Finduilas's eyes staring out. The Steward swore beneath his breath. He could still feel the small arm break beneath his hand. Denethor hadn't meant to hurt Faramir like that. Yet part of him felt no remorse. 

            In his mind the voices fought. There was the light voice, small and growing weaker with every hurt he did his son. And then there was the dark voice, twisted and strong, growing with each harsh word and slap. As Denethor's head swam in a drunken stupor, his conscience battled for control.

* Why do you hurt him, he is an innocent child? *

**Yes, a child who is puny, a weakling. **

* He has a strong soul, a loving heart. Is that a weakness, the ability to love? *

**Love is weak. Finduilas told you she would always love you. She said you were her stars and her sea. Yet _he _stole that. Her love was a weakness, and so is his.**

* Faramir only wants to please you. He wants his father to be proud of him, like he is proud of Boromir. *

**Ah, Boromir! _He_ is strong! He is better than his brother in everything, a true son. Why do you need the other?**

*** **Boromir may be strong, but Faramir has the far-sight like you. He is like you in many ways; he even looks like you except for his eyes. *

**He is like you, but he doesn't have your strength. He sees into you, sees your soul, and thinks himself better than you. He is a threat to you and your power. He would try to take it away from you and Boromir.**

* He would not do that, he loves you and his brother! Faramir is…*

**Be quiet! Faramir is nothing, a weakling. He does not deserve your love or respect! That is all you need to know.**

* Please! *

Yet the light was overcome. Denethor's darkness conquered and the light dwindled into a tiny flicker. 

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No, Denethor is not suffering from schizophrenia, the voices are his conscience. Kinda like shoulder angels. But because of Finduilas's death and his looking into the palantir, which I didn't mention, the dark voice is winning.


	5. Chapter 5

See disclaimer chapter 1

A/N: Please don't think Boromir is and ignorant fool after reading this chapter. Remember, Boromir is noble, Iorwyn isn't, so why should he listen to her?           

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            Iorwyn paced her room, incensed at what had happened. The night after Faramir appeared on her doorstep, the healer had snuck onto the palace grounds under cover of night, using hidden passageways. She entered a garden where Boromir was practicing with his sword. Iorwyn had called quietly to the boy, who turned around surprise. Hidden by shadow, she told him what she knew. And he hadn't believed her! Boromir had refused to believe that his father would do such a thing, and had threatened to have her arrested.

            'Now what do I do?' she wondered to herself. Boromir could help her, but refused. No citizen of Minas Tirith could do anything, for they were powerless against the Steward. What she needed was someone of power, someone who was not biased for Denethor. Suddenly an idea came to her. Smiling hopefully, Iorwyn sat at her desk to write a letter.

~*~

            Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth was sitting alone in his den when the messenger from Minas Tirith entered. Surprised, Imrahil said nothing for a moment. Overcoming his shock, he held out his hand and the messenger delivered the letter. The seal was one he didn't recognize. Opening the letter he read:

To Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth,

            Though you do not know me, I am a friend of your nephew, the Lord Faramir. I would not write this if I were not so concerned for my young friend. I have found that, consistently, Lord Faramir has come to me with injuries that I am suspicious of. Every two months on the ides, he is hurt in some way. As of late, the injuries have worsened, last night being the worst. He came in with a broken arm and a mark on his face. After talking with servants in the palace, I have found out something rather disturbing. The nights when the Lord Faramir is hurt are the same nights on which the Lord Denethor our Steward speaks with his sons individually, as tradition requires. The servants were reluctant to tell me this, but they too are worried about our little lord. They tell me that many times Lord Faramir has left his father's study with the injuries I have treated. 

            I plead with you now, Prince Imrahil, to do something about this atrocity. I risk much by telling you these things, yet my love for the young lord overcomes all concerns for myself. I fear for Lord Faramir's health and well being. I fear for his life. Please help him before it is too late! You are his only hope.

With all honor and respect,

Healer Iorwyn daughter of Magni and Ioreth 

Prince Imrahil sat back in his chair, rereading the letter again to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He ran a hand through his dark hair. Why would this woman say such things? They couldn't possibly be true. Denethor wasn't a very kind man, but he wasn't a monster. Yet something about the letter rang true.

He was so preoccupied by the message that he didn't hear his wife enter. "What is it that disturbs you so, my love?" Imrahil jumped at Freyaniel's voice. Instead of saying anything, he handed her the letter. As she read, he continued to think. Looking up from the letter, Freyaniel met his sea-gray eyes. She walked over to stand beside him, her soft, brown eyes saddened by what she had read. "Imrahil, you must do something about this." 

"But what if this healer lies? I cannot take such a serious accusation on the word of one I don't know."

"No one needs to know about the letter. Ride to Minas Tirith under the guise of seeing your nephews. Then just find out if her accusations are true. If they aren't, say nothing and enjoy your trip. And if they are true, well, do what you must in order to protect Faramir. That is all I ask of you." Imrahil nodded, seeing the wisdom in which his wife spoke.

"Very well, in six weeks I will go to Minas Tirith. I pray that nothing comes of this trip."

~*~

Faramir collapsed onto his bed. His arm was still healing, seven and a half weeks after it was broken. Boromir had been worried about him and doted on his little brother. With his arm useless, Faramir hadn't been able to practice with his sword, something he found ironic since his arm was broken because he wouldn't practice. Unfortunately he couldn't do anything else since reading was banned. Luckily Boromir understood and they played many games that didn't require the use of both arms. Yet even that could not lift Faramir's spirits, for Denethor's tongue had been especially harsh recently. Faramir reflected on what had happened at dinner.

            ***

            ". . .And Faramir and I played this strategy game called Ungoliant's Web. That was fun, although Faramir is much better at it than I am." Boromir was telling Denethor about their day and trying to put Faramir in a good light, but the Steward would not be moved.

"So instead of working with Athorin at the sword, you stayed inside playing silly games with your brother?"

"Father, It's not a silly game. Faramir was telling me how it was used by the Numenoreans to train their children in different battle. . ."

"I care not. Faramir, you should know better then to distract your brother like that. As the heir to the Stewardship he must learn how to use a sword, not play games. If you don't care enough about Gondor to put aside your petty jealousies against Boromir's skills, then you are more senseless then I thought." Faramir lowered his head to hide tears. Crying would just make things worse. "This is unsuitable behavior for a Lord of Gondor. Go to your room and no more of this foolishness." Nodding glumly, Faramir left.

Boromir was angry. "Father it is not fair to say that! Faramir didn't do anything. He even told me to go drill, but I didn't want him to be lonely. You shouldn't talk like that." He got up from his seat and left to follow his brother. Denethor was furious. Not only had his youngest son stolen his wife's love, he was now stealing Boromir away. With each thought, he fell more and more to the darkness.

***

Boromir found his brother sitting on his balcony, staring at the stars. "Faramir, I'm sorry to have gotten you in trouble."

"It's alright. No matter what you say he will always think I do everything wrong."

"He shouldn't. You are a great brother and a great son, but he doesn't see it."

Faramir looked up at his brother. He knew that Boromir was trying to cheer him up, but there was nothing that could lift his spirits. "Brother, thank you for sticking up for me. You are my best friend, do you know that?"

Boromir sat down next to Faramir and put his arm around him. "Little brother, you are my best friend too. We are best friends forever right?"

 Faramir smiled. "Right."

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A/N: I made up Imrahil's wife's name because I couldn't find it anywhere. Please keep reviewing!!!!!


	6. Chapter 6

All right, enough with the see disclaimers. I don't own Lord of the Rings, my name is not Tolkien so please be happy with that.

A/N: This is a very short chapter but I like cliffhangers so...

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It was the fifteenth, and Faramir was afraid. Things had not gone well at dinner and Denethor had consumed many glasses of wine. As a servant escorted him into the study, Faramir tried to calm his nerves. Maybe the Steward would just dismiss him. It was not to be so.

"You little disobedient child, how dare you go against my orders! I explicitly told you that you were not to read until I said you could. And yet I find a book hidden underneath your pillow!" He was towering over Faramir, the alcohol on his breath emitting an awful stench. 

"Father I swear, I haven't read anything except for my studies! That is the book I plan to give Boromir for his birthday, I haven't..." a slap kept him from continuing.

"Do not lie to me child! Only cowards lie! How could the Valar have cursed me with such a son!" Denethor was now waving his dagger at him. 

Faramir's calm broke. "Father, please! Why do you not love me? I try so hard and yet nothing I do pleases you! Why do you hate me so? You have never showed me the least bit of love! Mother would be ashamed of you!" It was the wrong thing to say. Incensed by his words, Denethor lost control. 

"Love you? Hah! You are weak!" the Steward threw Faramir hard against the wall, rebreaking his arm. "You are worthless!" The dagger slashed against the boy's cheek. "You do not deserve to be loved!" Faramir watched in horror as the dagger rose above his father's head. He knew what was coming, but cared not for his heart had broken into pieces at Denethor's words. The dagger came down and Faramir waited for the end to come.

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Like I said, I like cliffhangers.


	7. Chapter 7

Reviewer Responses

anonymous- I do feel honored. 

Niliwen- hehe I made Denethor a meanie. 

Ithilwen-I agree, ME does need a CPP. I'm sorry I made you cry, but since Faramir's one of my favorite characters too, you can be sure this isn't the end of his angst. =D sry

Narsil- Don't give up on your story! You just need to get back into it. Don't worry I'll post a couple chapters now to hold you over to the next time. I don't want to post to much of what I have until I get more of it done.

Thanks to Everyone else who reviewed, I just wanted to comment on the above-mentioned people's comments. Please keep reading and reviewing!

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Prince Imrahil arrived at Minas Tirith the night of the fifteenth. The weather had slowed them down so that they arrived later then expected. As Imrahil stabled his horse, a shadowy figure came up behind him. Whirling to face the intruder, Imrahil reached for his sword, only to stop when he saw the figure was a woman. Releasing the hilt, Imrahil asked, "Who are you? What do you want?" The woman answered, but desperately. "Please my Lord, you must hurry! Lord Denethor is speaking with Lord Faramir soon! You must go help him!" 

"You are the healer who sent the letter?"

"Yes, please go!" Although initially distrustful of the woman, Imrahil felt a sudden fear pass through him and he hurried out of the stable towards the palace. He entered without a problem, for the guards and servants knew him and he quickly walked to Denethor's study. Throwing open the door, Imrahil was shocked at what he saw. Little Faramir huddled against the wall and a dagger in the hands of the Steward of Gondor poised to end the child's life. With a speed that would make his elven ancestors proud, Imrahil grabbed Denethor's hand before he struck. After disarming the Steward, the Prince grabbed the front of Denethor's shirt. "What in Varda's name do you think you are doing! You would kill your own son in a drunken rage? Elbereth, you have gone mad!" Pushing Denethor into a chair, Imrahil turned to his nephew. Lifting the boy to his feet he said, "Come Faramir, we are leaving."

Denethor stood again. "Where do you think you are taking my son?" Imrahil spun to face him. "I am taking him to Dol Amroth where he will be safe from the man who tried to kill him! Tell the city whatever you like, you will not lay another hand on this boy! I swear it!" Imrahil briskly walked Faramir away, careful not to hurt his broken arm. Calling a servant, the Prince ordered that Faramir's things be gathered and the horses prepared. He led the boy to the stables, wanting to get away from Minas Tirith as soon as possible. Luckily he had only brought a small escort of his most loyal men, who would not question his orders. As they walked, though, he realized that Faramir's wounds needed to be treated. Changing direction, they went to the Houses of Healing where the healers directed him to Iorwyn's house, for she was the only one that he trusted not to spread rumors around the city. Iorwyn was waiting for them and she quickly began working on Faramir.

The boy was in a state of shock and barely noticed when she set his arm. When Iorwyn was done, Imrahil led Faramir to the door. Turning to the healer he said, "Thank you my lady for all you have done. I will be taking my nephew to Dol Amroth to see his mother's family." She nodded, understanding the underlying message. He was thanking her for warning him and he was taking Faramir to Dol Amroth for his own safety. Waving farewell, Iorwyn prayed for the Prince and her little lord.

Boromir was waiting at the stables. Seeing his brother and uncle, he ran up to them. "Uncle Imrahil, what is going on? I went to see Faramir and the servants were removing his things saying he was going to Dol Amroth. Is this true?"

"Yes it is Boromir. I think it is time that Faramir meet the rest of his family. You know them, but he does not. I know it is short notice, but we got here later than we meant to and we need to get back home soon." Boromir looked at Faramir, but he held his head down, dark hair covering his face...and the cut from the dagger.

"Alright, I guess. I will see you in a little while then Faramir. Have fun, and don't worry, our relatives are great. You will like it there." When Faramir said nothing, he assumed that the smaller boy was just a little dazed at the move, so Boromir gave him a small hug and left the stables. 

The horses were quickly saddled, and the company left Minas Tirith for home. Faramir rode with Imrahil for the Prince feared that the boy was not well enough to ride by himself. The escort said nothing, knowing that it was not their place. 

Back in Minas Tirith, the Steward watched them leave from the tower of Ecthelion. His conscience cried for him to see his wrongdoing, yet it was ignored. Denethor was lost to the darkness. 

~*~

            It took the company a week to return home. Throughout that time, Imrahil tried to get Faramir to talk, but to no avail. The boy withdrew into himself, responding only by nodding or shaking his head. The captain of the escort, Rendil, had also tried to talk to the young lord, but Faramir backed away, frightened, and so he gave up. Prince Imrahil was very relieved when Dol Amroth came into sight. They entered with no fanfare, which Imrahil was glad of, for they had not been gone long. 

Freyaniel met them in front of the Royal House. When she saw Faramir with her husband, her heart sunk in the realization that the healer hadn't lied. From the look on Imrahil's face, she knew that things still were not good. "Freya, I would like you to meet my nephew Faramir. Faramir, this is my lovely wife Freyaniel."

Freyaniel bent over to look into Faramir's eyes. Their haunted look broke her heart. "Hello Faramir, I am so glad to have finally met you. My husband has told me so much about you, and I have been eagerly awaiting this day. You can call me Aunt Freya if you want." Faramir liked her, but still refused to talk or smile. He only bowed slightly and followed his aunt and uncle into the House. Leading him up two flights of stairs, Imrahil and Freyaniel showed him to his room. 

"This was my room when I was a young boy. I loved sitting on the balcony overlooking the sea. Will it do?" Faramir walked around the room and nodded. It was nice and airy, the walls a light beige, and open doors leading to the balcony. 

Freyaniel started speaking. "There wasn't enough time to air the mattress properly, but we can do that sometime this week. If you need anything, tell a servant and they will get it for you. Imrahil and I are six doors down that way on the right if you just want to talk to us. Once you get settled in I will show you around the House so you won't get lost. Oh, have you ever swum in the ocean? No? Well then, if you ever want to, come and get me and I will teach you how. Now, we will leave you to unpack. Remember I will be in my room when you are done." She gave Faramir a big smile and she and her husband left the room.

Faramir laid down on the bed. The servants carrying his things came and left, but he did not unpack. Aunt Freya seemed so kind and loving that he had almost spoken to thank her. Yet then he remembered his father's words. He didn't deserve to be loved. It was better that his aunt be kind to someone else, he wasn't worthy of her compassion. Sighing, Faramir stood up and began unpacking. The sooner he was unpacked, the sooner he could be done with the tour and be by himself again, where he was safe.

~*~

            Ten months went by, and Imrahil was no closer to bringing his young nephew out of his self-imposed silence then he had been the first week. Faramir was doing better though. He had reluctantly allowed Freya to mother him a little. They even went swimming a few times. One of the greatest steps taken had been the books. Faramir had refused to even open a book, for that is why he had gotten in trouble in the first place. One night, though, Freya sat down on the boy's bed and proceeded to read him an entire chapter of Akallabeth, the Fall of Numenor. After that, she read to him each night before bed, even though he still refused to read by himself. 

            Faramir also began sword fighting again, though he favored his left hand. After gaining the boy's tentative trust, Rendil instructed him in the art of the sword. The captain and Faramir were sparring lightly when the trumpets announced that a man of noble blood had entered the city. Excused from the practice, Faramir ran back to the House to see who it was. He entered the parlor where Freya was preparing to greet the guest. He questioned her with his eyes and she answered, "I do not know who is coming. Your uncle is bringing him here right now. Oh, here they come." Imrahil entered the parlor followed closely by... Boromir! Surprised at seeing his brother, Faramir unconsciously moved closer to Freya. Spotting Faramir, Boromir broke out into a grin and ran to hug him.

            "Faramir! How are you? I've missed you so much! Are you having fun here?" Faramir nodded, but didn't smile. His face had been set in stone since his arrival and even seeing his beloved brother could not produce even a little smile. In his happiness Boromir didn't notice and turned to his uncle. "My father doesn't actually know I'm here. I snuck away with the messengers and by the time they figured out who I was we were too far to turn back. I wanted to see my little brother again. And you and Aunt Freya of course." Imrahil smiled at his older nephew but inwardly he wondered how Denethor would take it. Most likely he would blame Faramir for luring Boromir here. 

            "We are glad to see you too Boromir, but I think it best if you leave with the messengers. Your father won't like that you have come without permission." Boromir looked at the ground guiltily. "Alright. But can we stay here a few days before leaving again?"

            "The messengers will want to leave as soon as possible so you may stay the night. We will give you the room next to Faramir's." Boromir agreed and then left to follow Freya to his room. Imrahil glanced down at Faramir. The boy looked as if he was confused as to whether be happy at seeing his brother or worried because Boromir was sure to notice his silence. Before Imrahil could say anything, however, Faramir left to return to his practice.

            Faramir didn't see his brother again until lunch. The four ate together, Imrahil and Freya talking to Boromir while Faramir sat in stony silence like usual. Finally Boromir turned to his little brother. "Faramir, you haven't said anything yet. Is there something wrong?" Faramir did nothing for a moment, then began rubbing his throat as a sign that he couldn't talk. "You hurt your throat? Are you sick?" Faramir nodded, but shook his hand to show that it wasn't serious. Boromir accepted this and proceeded to ask only questions with yes or no answers so that Faramir could either nod or shake his head. Imrahil and Freya exchanged a glance at the lie but said nothing. 

      The brothers spent the rest of the day together. Faramir showed Boromir around the Royal House and the surrounding areas. They even sparred together and Boromir was surprised at how good Faramir had gotten, especially since his dominant right arm was still healing. Yet he was concerned because, no matter what, Faramir never cracked a smile. Boromir knew it had something to do with the night his brother had left, but what it was he did not know and neither Faramir nor his aunt and uncle would tell him. That night, Freya invited Boromir to listen to the book she was reading to Faramir. It confused the young lord for his brother had never liked being read to, preferring to read himself, yet he said nothing having learned that no one would answer his questions. After she finished reading, Freya tucked Faramir in and led Boromir back to his room where she tucked him in also. It felt nice, for no one had tucked him in since his mother. So Boromir, content with seeing his brother, fell fast asleep dreaming about winning wars and rescuing damsels in distress.

Faramir could not fall asleep. He tossed and turned until he realized that he wouldn't sleep unless he knew what his father said in his message. Creeping quietly downstairs, he entered his uncle's study. Prince Imrahil, who also couldn't sleep and was sitting at his desk, was startled when Faramir touched his shoulder. Turning to his nephew Imrahil asked what Faramir needed. The boy just pointed to the letter on the desk, clearly asking what it held. Imrahil sighed. "Your father has sent word that I am to take you back to Minas Tirith within two weeks or he will send an armed guard to escort you back." Faramir's gray eyes widened in fear at the prospect of returning to his father. Surely this time he would succeed where he failed nearly a year ago! Seeing this fear, Imrahil quickly reassured him. "Worry not Faramir! I will not let you go back to him. That is why I am up at this time of night. I have decided what we must do, and am thinking of how to proceed. There is an elven haven in the north, Rivendell, under the leadership of Lord Elrond. It has been said that he grants refuge to men in need.  A week from now, when the messengers have reached Minas Tirith and given Denethor my response, we will set out for Rivendell. Is this agreeable to you?" Faramir nodded, relieved to not be returning to his father. "Good. I shall tell Freya tomorrow. Now it is time for you to go to bed."

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Alright, I just changed the story a bit there. I didn't like the whole descendent of Amroth theme I had before so I'm changing it. Oh and in the upcoming chapter, I have the distances all messed up because I have no idea how far Dol Amroth is from Minas Tirith or Rivendell. I made it a week to Minas Tirith, just because I felt like it, and the rest of the time I just figure it would take about two months to get to Rivendell considering that is how long it was from the time the Fellowship left Rivendell to when it broke at Parth Galen. 


	8. Chapter 8

As promised, I am putting this up before anyone had time to review the last chapter. Enjoy!

^these^ mean talking in Elvish. 

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            The week passed by quickly with the preparations to go to Rivendell. When she first heard about the trip, Freya insisted on going along with them. Imrahil managed to convince her that it would be all right for her to stay in Dol Amroth by agreeing to take Rendil for protection. The servants and the people of Dol Amroth were told that Faramir was returning to Minas Tirith and that Imrahil would be staying there for a few months. 

            Finally the day came that Imrahil, Faramir, and Rendil left Dol Amroth. It was a tearful good-bye, at least on Freya's part. She hugged Faramir tightly, promising him that he was always welcome in Dol Amroth and that she loved him. Then Faramir did something surprising. He returned her hug and smiled at her for a brief moment in thanks for all she had done. Freya felt her heart melt and she barely contained her tears. She said good-bye to Imrahil with a long kiss and the three travelers were off.

            Rivendell was many weeks away from Dol Amroth. The three had to travel up the South Road to Minas Tirith, take the West Road to Edoras, go through the Gap of Rohan, proceed up through Dunland on the Old South Road a ways, cross the Glanduin into Eregion, and follow the Bruinen to Rivendell. They traveled by foot, for horses would be easy to notice and would make them prey to robbers. It rained and so their clothes were considerably dirty and wrinkled by the third day. Both Imrahil and Rendil, normally clean-shaven, had grown a fair amount of stubble, which made them look more like the common folk than nobility.

            Besides the rain, everything went well until the fifth day. That night they had decided to continue walking in the dark in order to make up for time lost by the rain. As fate would have it, a group of soldiers from Minas Tirith were camped nearby. One of the scouts spotted the trio and detained them, taking them to the tent of his commander. Luckily, Faramir had had time to cover his head with his cloak so that the soldiers could not see his face. When he saw the commander, he nearly drew back in fright. It was Commander Lokir, a tall man with a mean-streak a mile wide. Lokir had always disliked Faramir and was a close confidant of Denethor's. The Commander gave them a smile, though it was clearly fake. "My good people, what reasons have you for traveling at this time of night? Surely it is too dangerous to be wandering around so." Imrahil took charge, displaying his skill in fabricating stories at a moment's notice.

            With a very convincing peasant accent, he said, "I am sorry sir for disturbing you. I am traveling north to Rohan with my brother and daughter. We felt it was safer to travel at night, for neither my brother nor I can manage to stay awake to keep watch, making us prey for bandits." Faramir didn't like being introduced as a girl, but saw the wisdom in it. If these soldiers were looking for them, they would look for a young boy, not a girl. Apparently the commander fell for their trap.

            "Should not a young girl be accompanied by her mother? And why does she hide her face? I can assure you that my men will not take advantage of her."

            "Ah, but we do not wish to scare them, do we? I fear the girl is quite ugly, since she was mauled by a wild pig as a child, leaving her scarred and mute. As to her mother, my dear wife recently died in childbirth, along with my son. I am taking the girl to my wife's kin in Rohan to learn to be a good mid-wife, for I fear no man will ask for her hand." It was not a full lie. A wild 'pig' had indeed scarred Faramir, and he would not speak.

            "Forgive me these questions. Indeed I would not have apprehended you myself, but my men are restless at having to leave our post at Osgiliath in order to march to Dol Amroth and rescue the Steward's youngest son. In my opinion, the brat isn't worth it. Why the Prince kidnapped him is beyond me. The brat is worthless and his father doesn't even like him. The boy deserves a good whipping for causing the Steward so much trouble." Imrahil felt his heart sink at the commander's words. He knew that Faramir would be hurt by what was said, and wished desperately that Lokir would let them go before any more damage was done. Thankfully, his wish was granted for Lokir seemed to notice how much he was saying. "I'm sorry for rambling on like this. You need not concern yourself. I bid you good-night and fair travels." The three bowed and left the camp, continuing north.

            As Imrahil feared, Faramir did take the commander's words to heart. He withdrew from his companions and it seemed that all improvements he had made would be for not. Imrahil talked to him continuously in order to keep him from retreating into himself. Rendil, knowing about what Denethor had done to Faramir, helped Imrahil as much as he could. They felt it best not to enter Minas Tirith when they reached it, opting to go around.

            It took two months to reach the glade near the path to Rivendell. Faramir seemed to grow more anxious the closer they got. Would this Lord Elrond let him stay? Or would he see how worthless he was and refuse to give him sanctuary? The trio walked quietly and carefully through the woods. Suddenly, a voice yelled out to them in Sindarin. Faramir, having learned the elvish language early in life, knew what the elf was saying. ^ Halt! You are not welcome in this land, mortals. ^ Imrahil stretched his hands out to show he was unarmed.

             ^ I apologize for intruding on your land, but I need to speak to Lord Elrond. It is of utmost importance. ^ 

Without warning, a dark-haired elf leaped from a tree and landed in front of them. Looking closely at Imrahil, the elf's eyes widened in surprise. ^ You have elven blood in you! ^

Imrahil nodded. ^ I am Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. I come with my nephew, who also has elven blood, and my guard who I trust with my life. ^ The elf nodded. 

^ I am called Tatharwe. I believe you, and if you follow me, I will take you to Lord Elrond. ^

It did not take them long. Soon Tatharwe and the travelers stood in the Hall of Fire, awaiting Lord Elrond. Faramir took this time to study the elf. It was the first elf he had ever seen and he couldn't help staring at the regal figure and the pointed ears. If Tatharwe noticed, he said naught and Faramir's study was interrupted when another elf entered the room. ^ Lord Elrond, I found these three in the glade. One says he is Imrahil of Dol Amroth, and I believe him for I sense that he has elven blood. ^ Elrond inclined his head in acknowledgement and motioned for Tatharwe to leave. Turning to his guests, Elrond spoke in the Common Speech, which relieved Rendil who spoke no Sindarin and had no clue what was going on.

"Why have you come here?" 

Imrahil stepped forward. "My Lord, I am Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. I will tell you why I came here, but I would like to talk privately, not where we could be walked in on at any time." This seemed reasonable, so Elrond led Imrahil to his personal study while Faramir and Rendil were allowed to rest in a sitting room. 

Imrahil spoke first. "Forgive me, my lord, for disturbing your peace here. I would not have come, but I knew not where else to turn. My nephew, Faramir, is in need of protection and Dol Amroth is no longer safe for him. I know it is much to ask, but I ask you to give him sanctuary here."

"What do his parents have to say about this?" Imrahil looked at the elf lord sadly.

"His mother, my dear sister, is dead these three years. And as for his father, Steward Denethor of Gondor, it is from him that Faramir needs to be protected."

"Why would the boy need to be protected from his father?"

"You saw the scar on my nephews cheek?" Elrond nodded. The scar ran from Faramir's ear to just underneath one gray eye. "That scar is from my brother-in-law's dagger. Denethor struck him, broke his arm, and would have killed the boy had I not intervened." Lord Elrond nearly dropped the glass of wine he held in shock, his face not betraying his anger. Imrahil continued. "That night I took Faramir from Minas Tirith and brought him to Dol Amroth. He has lived there for the past year, but now Denethor wants him back and threatened to send soldiers to take him by force. I could not let that happen, so I brought him here. That is why I plead with you to let Faramir stay here." 

Elrond agreed whole-heartedly that the boy would be safer in Rivendell. "Prince Imrahil, your nephew may stay here for as long as he would like. Yet you hold something back about him."

"I do. Since the night his father tried to kill him, Faramir has not spoken a word and has smiled once. He fears daggers and the smell of alcohol reminds him of the times his father hurt him."  

Lord Elrond tensed. "Times? Do you mean to tell me that the Steward had hurt him before?"

"Yes, but not as badly. I fear that this last time, Faramir's injuries were more than physical. Denethor has always looked down on his younger son, thinking him weak and worthless, and I think he said so to him."

"He has an older brother?"

"Yes, Boromir. Denethor favors Boromir, for he is more war-like and strong. And yet Faramir loves his brother and I do not think he blames Boromir for having their father's love when he himself does not."

"That shows much for his character. Come, a room will be prepared for Faramir. You will stay a few days, will you not?"

"It would be best if Rendil and I left as soon as possible, for I cannot be away from my city for so long. Already, it has been two months." They entered the sitting room where Rendil was pacing and Faramir was silently counting how many circuits Rendil was making. Seeing Imrahil and Elrond enter, Rendil quit walking and Faramir stood up. "Rendil, we will leave the day after tomorrow. Faramir, Lord Elrond had agreed to let you stay here." The boy nearly smiled in relief. He cautiously looked up at the noble elf lord. Elrond wore his long, brown hair down, held back from his face with clips and braids. He wore a long green robe that gave him a royal appearance. The elf lord wore a stern expression on his face, yet there was warmth in his eyes.

"Young Faramir, I am honored to have you as part of my household. It will be refreshing to have a young face around here. The last child here, my foster son, Estel, left forty-one years ago. Now, I believe it is time for dinner, if you will follow me." 

            Faramir spent the next day getting used to his new home. It helped having Imrahil and Rendil there, and Lord Elrond was very pleasant when it came to his ward. The second day, though, Imrahil and Rendil left for Dol Amroth. It saddened Faramir to see them go, for his uncle had been the one who had saved him from Denethor, taken him into his home, and now had provided him with a haven. On the journey, Rendil had become a good friend, a man Faramir knew he could trust. As Rendil stood by, Imrahil knelt to give Faramir a hug. "I wish you could stay in Dol Amroth with Freya and I, but I know you will be safe here with the elves. Good-bye, I love you." He began to stand, but Faramir tugged at his sleeve. The boy gave him a hug in return and, to the prince's great surprise, spoke. "Thank you, Uncle." It was only a whisper, yet it filled Imrahil's heart with hope.  Imrahil hugged his nephew again, and he and Rendil walked away, led by Tatharwe. Faramir watched until they were out of sight, then ran to his new room and shut the door, closing out the world.

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In case I didn't make it clear, Faramir is NOT healed. His speaking was spur of the moment. I'm not done with him yet. *evil laughter heard from a distance* sorry that's my evil counterpart, Evil Skittle. If you're wondering about the name, you don't want to know. Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: No real bad stuff in this chapter, just Faramir getting to know Rivendell and its people.

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            For the first time in many years, the great healer Elrond felt that he had found someone who could not, who would not, be healed. Faramir had become reclusive, keeping to his room and leaving only for lessons or meals, which he only picked at. Elrond ate with the boy every morning and night, trying desperately to bring him out of his shell. Faramir was striving also, struggling to do what Lord Elrond asked of him. He tried to eat more, communicate with the elf lord, yet he had no appetite and he refused to speak, using only hand motions. During the first dinner Elrond decided that he would not consume wine in Faramir's presence, after the boy stared fearfully at him when he began to drink. With every sorrowful look in Faramir's gray eyes, Elrond felt a need to protect the boy, to give him the love of a father that he needed. Yet also in those sad eyes was the light of a far-seer, like the Numenorean kings of old. And that was the elven name Elrond gave Faramir, Tirpalandil. Being told his new name was the one time that Faramir had smiled since he had left Dol Amroth.

            One day, on a rare occasion when he was out of his room for something other than sword practice or lessons, Faramir was walking silently through the halls of the Last Homely House. Except for Tatharwe and Lord Elrond, he hadn't met any other elves. He never saw Tatharwe at all, and Lord Elrond always announced his presence, so Faramir was startled when he nearly ran into two elves, for he hadn't heard them. The male was tall, blond, and very stately, while his female companion was dark-haired and luminous, noble, yet radiating warmth. Luckily the elves didn't care about the near collision. "Hello young one, you must be Lord Elrond's new ward. I am Glorfindel and this is my wife Eluial. It is a pleasure to meet you." Faramir bowed in respect, then looked around to see if there was a way to escape these two. The blond elf raised an eyebrow, expecting the boy to give his name, as was proper. "Child, it is rude not to answer when talked to." Faramir backed up, not knowing what to do. Eluial shook her head at her husband.

            "Glorfindel! Can you not tell that you are scaring him? Honestly, not all children are like the twins, you need to be more patient." She smiled at Faramir. "Please excuse my husband, he is not used to quiet children. They make him nervous." The boy almost sighed in relief, but he knew he was still expected to say something. Luckily he was saved by the timely arrival of Elrond.

            "Tir, there you are. I could not find you. Hello Glorfindel, Eluial it is good to have you back. You will have to tell me how your trip went later. I see you have met Tirpalandil. Tir, I know you and Cunaros were going to spar this afternoon, but I had to send him on an errand." Faramir inclined his head in understanding. Elrond was about to go on, but Eluial spoke first.

            "Lord Elrond, have you shown him the north-west waterfalls?"

            "No, I haven't yet."

            She smiled. "Perfect! Tir, would you like to take a picnic and eat at the waterfalls? They are beautiful, especially this time of year with the surrounding trees so many different colors." Faramir glanced at Lord Elrond who gave him permission. The boy nodded and Eluial smiled. "Wonderful, I will meet you on the west patio around three o' clock."  Faramir bowed and left for his room. As soon as he left, the two elves turned to face Lord Elrond, matching questioning expressions on their face.

            Elrond sighed. "Tir doesn't talk because of a trauma he recently experienced. I will not say what, for it is not my place. Thank you Eluial for being so kind to him. Perhaps you shall reach him better than I."

~*~

            ". . .and so Lord Elrond brought the remainder of the Hollin Elves here to Imladris. This is the Last Homely House east of the Sea, a haven for many elves." As they ate, Eluial gave Faramir the history of Rivendell, and Lord Elrond. The boy had had no idea that the elf lord was so powerful or that he was a great warrior. He figured Lord Elrond also saw his weakness and that the elf would soon tire of him and send him back to Minas Tirith. Trying to shove those thoughts away, Faramir took in the sights of the waterfalls. They flowed softly over the hillside, glittering in the afternoon sun. The rushing water thundered as it hit rocks in the pool below, spray creating a rainbow that arced gracefully before dissipating into nothingness. The sight lifted his spirits until he forgot his earlier musings, content with the simple beauty.

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Tirpalandil is roughly 'far seer`. I mixed up Palantir, the name of both the seeing stones, and the name of a Numenorean king. And the waterfalls come into play later, they aren't as lovely as they appear to be. *cue mysterious music*


	10. Chapter 10

Reviwer Responses

Smeagol= The waterfalls aren't evil per se, but let's just say that Faramir is going to have some trouble. As for Evil Skittle, all I will say is that one cannot keep an entire huge handful of Skittles in your mouth without spitting some out on your friend.

JediKnightBalthasar= You will see more of the shoulder angels. It's from watching the Emperor's New Groove too many times=D I didn't know that about broken arms. Never had one myself, so sorry for the discrepancy. Maybe Faramir's stronger than people think, since he does get hurt a lot. I looked in the Appendices and all it said was that Aragorn left Rivendell and traveled a lot. He's mentioned in this chapter and will be appearing in the near future. You will definitely see that Faramir isn't truly healed. He may be running around a bit, but remember he is ten. He should be bouncing off the walls driving the elves crazy. At least that is what I have read in other fan fics about young Estel or Legolas. Thank you for reviewing, everyone. I hope this next chapter meets up to your expectations.

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            Over two years had passed since Faramir had left his home in Minas Tirith. Two years of exile, of silence. In those two years, Faramir's spirits rose and fell like the great mountain range of Hithaeglir. At times he felt almost normal again, nearly happy. Yet mostly he despaired of ever healing his shattered heart. At ten years old he should have been laughing, enjoying life, not captive to hopelessness. Lord Elrond worried also. Never had any of his foster sons tugged so on his heartstrings like this one. He had never felt so helpless.

            Elrond had tried a different approach to get Faramir to talk. He gave the boy a notebook and ink to write his feelings in. Whether he ever used it, the elf did not know. Even if he did, the young lord still refused to speak. Sometimes, when she talked about the history of Middle Earth, Eluial felt that he wished to say something or ask a question, yet when she encouraged him he shrank back.

            Dinner was almost ready to be served, as Lord Elrond entered the dinning room where he ate with Faramir. To his surprise, two elves were already in there! Alike in appearance, Elrond knew these elves, his sons Elladan and Elrohir, were very different in temperament. The elder twin, Elladan, while having the usual refinement of the elves, managed to be energetic and outspoken, more inclined to fight. Elrohir was his brother's opposite. Calm and soft in speech, Elrohir preferred the healing arts, although still being a strong soldier. He always managed to keep his brother out of trouble, while being more aware of others' needs. 

            Elrond smiled and embraced his sons. "I am glad to see you both! We were not expecting you for a while yet." The twins had been riding with their foster brother Estel of the Dunedain. 

            "Estel sent us home. He said that we had been away too long, and that it was getting annoying having us there looking over his shoulder." Elladan said with a smile on his face.

            "So he has sent you home to annoy me, is that it? Come, sit. Dinner is soon and I am sure Tir will not mind you eating with us."

            Elrohir's ears perked up, interested. "Tir? Who is that?"

            "Your new foster brother, Tirpalandil. I warn you, he does not speak. . ." He would have said more, told them about Faramir, but just then the boy entered. Faramir was startled to see the other elves. At first he thought he was seeing double, then, realizing his mistake, he noted that they looked much like Lord Elrond. "Tir, these are my sons, Elladan and Elrohir. They have been gone for a long time, and just arrived now. I have asked them to eat with us tonight." Faramir nodded in agreement, then bowed to the twins in greeting.

            Sitting down, Elladan began telling his father about their journeys with the Dunedain. Dinner was served, and Faramir sat quietly eating as the twins talked. Mostly Elladan spoke, with Elrohir interjecting bits and pieces in between. At one point Elrohir noticed that they had been served milk instead of wine. Ordering glasses of wine for his brother and himself, the elf did not see the look on his father's face, nor the one on Faramir's. Things worsened after that when Elladan brought out his new dagger and proceeded to show his father its fine points, such as a curved handle and sharp blade. The blood drained out of Faramir's face as he remembered his last encounter with a dagger handled by a man who drank wine. Seeing this, Elrond quickly asked Elladan to sheath the dagger at the table. Elladan opened his mouth to argue, but Elrohir silenced him with a kick under the table. The younger twin had noticed the fear in Faramir's face and though he wondered why, he knew the dagger frightened the boy. 

            Faramir pushed his plate away, the signal that he wished to leave. Elrond excused him and watched as the boy hurried away. He turned on his sons angrily. "Elladan, Elrohir, that was very inappropriate of you."

            Elrohir exchanged a look with his brother, then turned back to face Elrond. "I am sorry Father, but we did not know that whatever we did was wrong." Elrond's anger left him. He hadn't told his sons, so they had no way of knowing.

            "I am sorry my sons. As I said before, Tir does not speak. That is because he had a great hurt done to him. Two years ago, his father, in a drunken rage, nearly killed him... with a dagger. Since that time he had spoken once and he rarely, if ever, smiles." Now the twins were remorseful of their actions.

            "Is there anything we can do to help?"

            Elrond shook his head. "I myself wish to help him, but he will not let me. I so not know what to do."

~*~

            The sky was dark by the time Elrond made his way upstairs. He wished to see if Faramir felt all right after the disaster at dinner. In the hallway, though, he stopped. Coming from Faramir's room flew a haunting melody, sung not by the voice of an elf, but the soft tongue of a young boy. The Sindarin words sent a shiver down the elf lord's spine.

**_ Darkness approaches,_**

**_I try to hide,_**

**_But shadows call_**

**_Stronger than I._****__**

****

**_Silent plea,_**

**_Ignored by all,_**

**_Shadow grows,_**

**_Darkness falls._**

****

**_Who shall survive,_**

**_End comes to light._**

**_Hope shall save those_**

**_Lost to night_**_.___

**_Hope comes,_**

**_The dawn is nigh_**

**_Yet the shadow, the shadow,_**

**_Is stronger than I._****__**

            It scared Elrond. Why did Faramir sing so? Even the sorrowful songs of the elves held hope, yet this had none. Walking quickly towards the boy's room, he found the door locked. "Tir! Tir, open this door please! Tir!" His words went unheeded as the singing continued.

**_ Darkness approaches,_**

**_I try to hide,_**

            Kneeling by the door, Elrond started using a pin to pick the lock.

****

**_Silent plea,_**

**_Ignored by all,_**

            Now Elrond was beginning to panic. A feeling of darkness crept through him. 

**_Who shall survive,_**

**_End comes to light._**

            Finally the door opened and Elrond rushed into the room. No candles lit the chamber, only the light of the stars filtered through the windows. Sitting on the bed and facing the windows was Faramir, tears in his gray eyes. The boy turned his head and gazed sadly at Elrond as he whispered the last words. "The shadow, the shadow, is stronger than I."

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Hehe. Evil Skittle has convinced me to make this a cliffhanger. Expect an update either tomorrow or sometime this week.


	11. Chapter 11

Don't own it, all I own is the Extended Version DVD, which is totally AWESOME!!!!!! 

A/N: Sorry about not updating, I just never had the time. 

Reviewer Responses

Ithilwen= Boromir thinks Faramir is either with Imrahil or some friends. He doesn't know about Denethor sending soldiers to Dol Amroth or anything. Thanks, I'm glad you liked the song. I try to incorporate poetry/songs when I can, since Tolkien loved it. If you liked the twins, you'll see more of them later.

Dang the Torpedoes= Estel's coming up too, as well as more twins. Legolas will only be mentioned in scenes in which he has to say something to make sense (i.e. the council scene) No more than that, I promise.

JediKnightBalthasar= Ice cream? Maybe I should try that. Nah, my friend would kill me.

Argentum-Draco=  hehe. Unfortunately for you, I love putting up cliffies. Sorry!

Snitter in Rivendell= I didn't mind Denethor too much until I started writing this. Now I feel he's a big jerk and I really don't like him. But don't worry, I'm thinking of having him come around at the end. Glad you like the part about cancer, that was my reasoning for that.

evil witch queen= Evil Skittle: nickname/evil alter ego. Gained when trying to consume an entire handful of Skittles in one go. Made a mess. Glad you liked the song!

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            Kneeling before Faramir, Elrond grabbed the boy's shoulders. "No Tir, the shadow is _not _ stronger than you, you can beat it. Please fight!" Faramir brought up his arms and roughly broke Elrond's hold.

            "You don't understand. Please leave, I'm not worth your time." His astonishment at hearing real words come out of the child's mouth lasted only a passing moment as Elrond heard what Faramir said.

            "How can you say you are not worth my time? You are my foster son, dear to me as one of my own."

            Tears traced paths down Faramir's cheeks. "Dear to you? You are a great warrior and leader of elves. How could one like you love someone like me as a son? No, Father was right I am weak, worthless. I do not deserve the love of anyone, let alone you." He stood up to get away from the elf lord, but Elrond grasped his shoulders again and forced him to sit back down.

            "That is not true Tir! You deserve to be loved, you _are_ loved! Your uncle loved you enough to save you and bring you here. _I_ love you, you are as beloved to me as Elladan and Elrohir. Why do you not believe that Denethor lied to you?"

            "He did not lie! He spoke truthfully, I could see it in his eyes! I am worthless, I have no hope! It would be best if you sent me back to Minas Tirith and let my father finish what he started!"

            Elrond's heart wrenched at the child's hopeless words. "NO! I will never send you back to Minas Tirith if it is within my power! Tir, you cannot believe that your life is worth nothing! Please, you must see that you are valuable, that I love you, my son!" Looking at Faramir's sorrowful gray eyes, the answer struck Elrond like a bolt of lightening. Those eyes, the eyes that held the far-sight, had indeed seen truth in Denethor's words, for that is how the Steward felt. Yet since then, Faramir had not 'looked' into anyone's eyes to know any different. Lifting the young boy's head in his hand, Elrond looked straight into his eyes. "Faramir look at me, look _into_ me." Startled, he did. "Tir, you _deserve_ happiness, you _deserve _love. I love you as my own son, and I will always, _always_, love you." Faramir searched, looking into the elf's soul for falsehood. Yet there was none, everything he said was true!

            Faramir began sobbing and collapsed to the floor. "You mean it! But, how? Why? Why would you love me? " Elrond wrapped his arms around the small boy.

"I love you because you are my son. Denethor may not be able to love you, but that does not mean that no one loves you. Your brother, Imrahil, Freyaniel, myself, we all love you. You just need to open your heart and see that." Faramir's tear-streaked face looked up and Elrond could see a ghost of a smile before Faramir lowered his head again, still softly crying. Finally the boy began drifting off to sleep as the tears slowed. In a sleepy tone Faramir spoke. "Lord Elrond? Will you be my daddy?"

            "I would be honored, little one." Faramir hugged the elf tighter.

            "Good night Ada." The elf lord picked Faramir up and placed him in his bed, tucking him softly in. He bent over and kissed the child lightly on the head.

            "Good night...my son."

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Short chapter, sorry.


	12. Chapter 12

Last time I checked, I wasn't Tolkien, so I don't own it.

End of an era, NOT the end of the story. I still can't believe I have over 30 reviews. I love it! Did anyone see JAG the other day? Bud writes fanfiction too! I thought that was cool. 

Please review! Next chapter we meet Estel!

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            The next morning, Lord Elrond anxiously awaited Faramir at the breakfast table. The elf hoped that the boy, no, his son, had truly been healed last night. The door opened and Faramir walked in. Elrond smiled at him from his seat. "Good morning Tir! Are you feeling well this morning?" At first he feared that Faramir would only nod, but then the boy opened his mouth.

            His voice was soft, unsure. "Good morning Ada. I am feeling much better." Elrond's smile turned into a grin. There was a crash behind him. Turning, the two noticed that the elf who served breakfast had dropped the tray she had been carrying. Faramir's lips curved in a tiny smile as the elf hurriedly cleaned up then raced back to the kitchen, most likely to tell the whole staff that the silent child had spoken. 

            The news spread quickly around Rivendell that Lord Elrond's foster son had finally spoken, and the dark mood that lay upon the House after Faramir's song the night before disappeared. Faramir, though, didn't feel completely healed. Two years of hopelessness had taken its toll. He had nearly forgotten how to smile and he never spoke loudly. Faramir was small, having not eaten as much as growing boy should. Yet Elrond's words quickly remedied that, and soon he had the staff running around, trying to keep the now constantly hungry child fed. 

            A few nights later, Faramir snuck into Elrond's study, relieved to find it empty. He didn't want to explain to his Ada that he couldn't sleep. Nightmares kept him awake, as they had for the past two years. Carrying a blanket, Faramir laid down on the small couch in the room. It was soft, and smelled of Ada. The ten-year old soon fell fast asleep.

~~* "Father, please! Why do you not love me? I try so hard and yet nothing I do pleases you! Why do you hate me so? You have never showed me the least bit of love! Mother would be ashamed of you!" The same dream. Over and over, the same thing happened. Always it came, first Faramir's own words, then his father's.

"Love you? Hah! You are weak!" Again, Faramir felt his arm break, the pain as fresh as it had been that night. "You are worthless!" The dagger slashed against his cheek. "You do not deserve to be loved!" Those horrible words, the ones that outweighed the horror of the dagger. Faramir wondered, each time he dreamt, if this part would ever turn out differently, if the dagger would follow its path. Before he almost wished it had. Yet now, he only felt terror and sadness. The hand shot out and grabbed the dream Denethor's wrist. Like always, this part dissipated and Faramir was walking in a green field, filled with flowers. In the distance he saw Denethor and Boromir walking and laughing together. He ran after them, calling for them to wait for him. Yet Denethor only frowned, turned, and walked quickly away. "Boromir, wait for me!" he cried, but his brother just smiled apologetically and ran after their father. Faramir felt his heart sink. They didn't love him. The shadow that had held him before, opened up beneath the boy and he began falling into a dark hole. Yet something different happened this time. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the shadow. *~~

Faramir awoke with a start. Eyes still closed, he felt someone's hand on his brow. Faramir shrunk away from the touch, but then the person spoke. "Shh. It's alright little one, it is just me."  He opened his eyes and sighed in relief at seeing his Ada's kind face. Sitting up slowly, Faramir made room for Elrond to sit next to him. The elf lord put his arm around the boy, who still trembled slightly from the dream. "You have had this nightmare before, have you not?" 

The child nodded. "Every night." He whispered. Elrond frowned. The elf had entered his study to find his son tossing and turning, clearly in the throws of some horrible nightmare. At first he thought to wait until Faramir woke on his own, but then he saw the shadow in the boy's features and entered into the dream to pull him out. In the few moments he walked in Faramir's nightmare he felt all the darkness that attacked the small child. To hear that this was commonplace concerned him. 

"Tir." Faramir kept his head down. "Tir, please tell me what you dream."

            The caring in Elrond's voice broke through the last of Faramir's barriers. The small boy spilled out everything, the dream, the words, the abuse. Elrond held him tightly as Faramir sobbed. By the time Faramir finished, the elf was ready to ride to Minas Tirith and personally introduce Denethor to the end of his sword, one he would preferably coat with a very slow and very painful poison. Keeping his emotions under control, Elrond spoke. "I wish there was someway to help you. I can stop the dreams, but not the pain." Faramir looked up at him, his cheeks red from crying.

            "You have helped me Ada. You saved me from the shadow." Elrond smiled and pulled the boy into an embrace, stroking his dark hair.

            "No, little one. It was your own strength that saved you. I could do nothing until you let yourself hope." But Faramir didn't hear him. Soft breathing told Elrond that the boy was asleep. He gently carried Faramir to the boy's room and carefully put him in bed. As he turned to go, a soft cry made him look back. Faramir seemed to be again entering his nightmare. Elrond pulled a chair next to the bed and placed a hand on the boy's head. The elf lord again entered Faramir's dream and kept the nightmare at bay. For the first time in years, Faramir slept soundly.

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I love mush. Just to reiterate, this is NOT slash. Elrond and Faramir have a father/son relationship. I just want to make sure everyone understands. Please review!


	13. Chapter 13

I don't own Lord of the Rings, it's as simple as that.

A:N/ Finally we meet Estel! And we have more of the twins! Yay! 

Reviewer Responses

Niliwen= You have a few chapters until we see Minas Tirith again. I don't think Elrond would be too happy about sending Faramir back after the last chapter.

Ithilwen= Glad you like it so much! Everyone keeps saying they like the poison sword bit, so I might have more stuff like that later. 

Alex= Sorry to say, but no such confrontation. You'll see why later. I've tried hard to portray Denethor the way I saw him in the books, but now I get mad whenever he is mentioned anywhere. When I see him in the next movies there will be popcorn flying.

Smeagol= I'm afraid I can't let you kill him. Though, I am not changing the pyre of Denethor chapter, so he does burn. Yay!

JediKnightBalthasar= Freezing socks? Interesting. I love mush too. Mush is fun to write, I just don't want people to get the wrong idea.

Darn the Torpedoes= I haven't read 'a Child called It' but I have heard of it. It is in the library and I want to get it out sometime. You'll see about 'Boz' and of course, Faramir will be in a battle, but does Denethor really care? Hehe.

IceAngel= I can understand about the exams. It is AU but I think you can fit it into the story as well without changing Tolkien. Later, when we get to where the books start, I'll be using Tolkien's lines, though changing them a little. Enjoy the story!

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3 years later, Faramir is 13

            Estel breathed in the cool, early spring air as he walked through the open halls of Rivendell. The Last Homely House hadn't changed since his last visit six years before. The Dunadan smiled. His foster father had no idea that he was here. Elladan and Elrohir, who knew of his presence, thought it would be great fun to surprise their father. Estel expected to find Elrond in the elf's personal library. He entered, but the room was empty. The Ranger tensed as he heard movement behind him. They were not the light steps of the elves, for they were easy to hear. A hand touched Estel's shoulder and with lightening speed, he grabbed the intruder's arm and swung him over his shoulder to the ground, a dagger at it's throat. Estel's eyes focused and he was amazed to see that his 'attacker' was a boy, about thirteen years old, with a mess of dark hair and sharp, gray eyes. His astonishment grew when he saw that the teenager was not afraid, but defiant. "Who are you and what business do you have in Lord Elrond's library?" Estel's eyebrows rose in question.

            "I could ask you the same question." Before anything else was said, Elrond walked in, horrified to see Estel pointing a dagger at Faramir. 

            "Aragorn, release him!" Estel did as he was told and Faramir walked warily to the elf's side. "Are you alright, son?" Estel opened his mouth to answer when the boy spoke.

            "I am fine, Ada. I found this intruder in here and I thought to get rid of him." Elrond nodded, then smiled at the astonished look on Estel's face.

            "I'm afraid this is just a big misunderstanding. Tir, this man is not an intruder he is my foster son, Estel. And this, Estel, is your new foster brother Tirpalandil. By the look on your face, I believe your brothers neglected to mention him to you." Estel nodded and sheathed his dagger.

            "I apologize Tirpalandil, I was not aware of another Man in the House. Will you forgive me?"

            "On two conditions. One, call me Tir. And two," the young man smiled. "You teach me how to do that!" Estel grinned.

            "Agreed." A silence fell over the three, none sure where to go from there

            Faramir studied Estel quizzically. "You're the Chieftain of the Dunedain, aren't you?"

            "That's right." 

            "Then that means you're the Heir of Isildur doesn't it?" Elrond and Estel stared at him in shock. Elrond looked his son in the eye.

            "Why would you say that?" 

            Faramir shrugged. "You called him Aragorn which is the name of one of the early chieftains of the Men of Westernesse. Also, in _of Isildur and the Lords of Arnor  it_ mentions the fact that Valandil, Isildur's youngest son, stayed in Imladris for much of his early life and that he and his descendants stayed friends with the elves of Rivendell, some even being raised here. Then in _the Dunedain and Imladris  the_ author mentions that the Chieftains of the Dunedain were watched over by the elves of Rivendell. While that in itself is not proof that the Chieftains are the same as the Heirs of Isildur, the look both of you gave me when I mentioned it says enough." 

            Elrond mentally reviewed the books Faramir mentioned. "I marked out those words in the books." Faramir gazed sheepishly at the ground. 

            "The ink you used was lighter than the original. When held up to a light the writing shows through." 

"I will have to do something about that. Tir, that is not light information and should not be spoken of to anyone. Do you understand?"

"Of course."

Elrond turned to his older son. "Estel, it is wonderful to see you again, but tell your brothers that I will speak to them later about informing me when you come visit. I do not want to come into my library and see my sons at each other's throats."

"Yes father." 

"Good. Now Tir, why don't you and Estel go outside and get to know each other." The two Men nodded and left Elrond to review his books for any other sensitive information.

As they ambled towards the northwest waterfalls, Faramir insisted that Estel keep his promise. "The first thing is to know someone is behind you. I heard your footsteps and knew that you weren't an elf. Elves are nearly impossible to hear." Faramir agreed, remembering his first encounter with Lord Glorfindel and Lady Eluial. "Men walk louder than elves, while dwarves walk louder then men. They also tend to have a shorter stride. Now, you won't be able to pull everyone over your shoulder. I could throw you because you weigh less then me. Your hand on my shoulder was the cue that I was being attacked. First, you need to grab the lower arm with both hands." Estel demonstrated using a large stick. Faramir had refused to be used in another presentation, once had been enough. "Then you duck down and swing the attacker around and throw them to the ground. In the middle of the throw, let one hand go and grab for your dagger so that while the attacker has his breath knocked out of him by the force of hitting the ground, you can position yourself so that you have the upper hand." 

Estel continued to teach Faramir different maneuvers and skills. The field next to the waterfalls was perfect for fighting so the two decided to spar. Estel, being older and stronger, continually beat Faramir. The Dunadan was ready to call it a day, but Faramir insisted on one more fight. The boy was certainly tired, and Estel quickly disarmed him. As the Ranger brought his sword down to indicate kill point, Faramir ducked forward, causing Estel to lose his balance and stumble. In that moment, Faramir twisted around and came up between Estel's arms, grabbing the sword with his right hand. He jabbed his elbow into the crook of Estel's left arm, causing the Man to lose his grip on the sword with that hand. Faramir twisted out pulling the sword with him, jerking Estel's right arm awkwardly. The pain made Estel let go and before the Ranger knew it, his own sword was pointed against his neck. Kill point.

Rubbing his sore arm, Estel turned and smiled proudly at Faramir, who was almost as stunned that he had won as the Dunadan. "Good job, Tir! I will have to remember that one. Where did you learn it?" 

Faramir returned his smile. "I just made it up."

*~*

"And then he blamed _us_ for you attacking Tir! It is not fair! We didn't make it so that you jump at every little thing!" complained Elladan to Estel, Elrohir, and Faramir. 

"Actually brother, it _is_ your fault. You were the one who kept sneaking up on him and scaring him as a child. Is it any wonder that he gets antsy when someone else does the same?" Elladan glared at his twin.

"That's not the point!" His companions laughed. The four brothers were hiking up the mountains for a picnic. Elladan had suggested it, Elrohir had backed him up, and Estel and Faramir decided that it would be fun and agreed to go. At that moment, the twins were relating their punishment for not telling Estel about Faramir and for not informing Elrond that the Ranger was coming in the first place. The four stopped at the waterfall crossing. The only way across was a fallen tree. The water raced swiftly underneath it, carrying the melted snow and debris from the mountains to the great northwest waterfall. Faramir stared at the tree nervously. It didn't look very sturdy. "Don't worry little brother, it will hold you. Estel crossed that tree many times when he was a boy and he's still alive, isn't he?" The young Man smiled at Elladan's enthusiasm and felt better, although he still held a sense of foreboding at the elf's words.

Elrohir crossed first followed by his twin and Faramir. The three turned and waited for Estel. Faramir was the first to see the crack in the tree. "Estel, go back!" Not understanding him over the roar of the river, Estel continued forward. Now both Elladan and Elrohir saw the fracture and yelled for their brother to stop. Estel frowned in confusion over his brothers' actions and took another step. It was one too many. The tree split in half right where Estel stood. Suddenly falling, Estel felt one moment of fear before a piece of the tree slammed into the back of his head and he lost consciousness.

The twins stood in horror as they watched their brother plunge into the icy river and get swept away toward the waterfall and the jagged rocks at the bottom. Faramir, however, did not petrify in shock like his brothers. He quickly dove into the river, ignoring Elladan and Elrohir's cries. The water froze his blood as he swam towards Estel, letting the swift current carry him faster. Seizing the unconscious Ranger, Faramir struggled towards shore, in vain. Luckily, a long branch protruded out and Faramir was able to grab it. He yelled for the twins as his hold weakened from Estel's weight and the pull of the water. Elladan reached them first and quickly grabbed Estel, pulling him onto the ground, as the Dunadan fought to regain consciousness. Faramir began pulling himself to shore as Elrohir reached out to help him. Without warning, a large rock, dislodged by the rushing water, slammed into the boy who lost his grip. Elrohir watched in dismay as the rock rolled over Faramir.

Faramir's ribs burned in agony as the boulder crushed against his chest. In a blessed moment, the pressure receded as the rock continued tumbling. Yet Faramir's relief gave way to despair as he found that the river's current was pulling him after it. Swimming was not an option, for even breathing made his ribs scream in torment. Keeping afloat cost him dearly in strength and energy. To his horror, the same stone he followed lodged itself between two larger stones. Faramir closed his eyes and braced himself for the imminent collision. He gasped in pain as his ribs shrieked in protest at the impact. As he hugged the rock to keep from being swept over the waterfall, all Faramir could do was hope that his brothers would rescue him soon. The icy chill of the water crept through his skin as he struggled to stay conscious. To sleep now would mean never waking up.

Estel awoke in time to see the boulder pull Faramir under the water. He saw Elrohir racing along the shoreline to try to rescue the boy. The Ranger allowed Elladan to slowly help him up. The pain and dizziness told him that he had hurt his head badly, perhaps gaining a concussion, but Estel ignored the ache as he and his brother ran after Elrohir. Estel winced when Faramir hit the stones. Elrohir was about to dive in after the boy, but Elladan held his younger twin back. "You cannot jump after him now, you will both be swept away. We need a rope." The three looked helplessly at each other. No one had thought to bring any. However, through his desperation, and his headache, Estel dimly remembered seeing Faramir pack some cord. He had teased the boy about being overprepared, but now it just might save his life. Elladan quickly ran back to where they had left the packs as Elrohir and Estel watched Faramir struggle, powerless to help.

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Cliffie! Blame Evil Skittle.


	14. Chapter 14

Don't own it

A:N/ I overpowered Evil Skittle so I'm uploading this at the same time as the last chapter. 

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Agonizing minutes passed before Elladan returned, rope in hand. Quickly tying one end around his waist, Elrohir leapt into the river and swam toward Faramir. The boy battled vainly against unconsciousness, his lips blue from the frigid water. As gently as he could, Elrohir pulled Faramir away from the rock. Elladan and Estel hauled back on the rope, towing their brothers to the shore. Once on dry ground, Elrohir gently laid Faramir on the grass. The young Man shivered violently which in turn caused him to cry out at the pain moving caused his ribs. While Elrohir caught his breath, Estel quickly checked over Faramir. He could not sense internal injuries, so Elladan effortlessly picked the boy up as they made their way down the side of the waterfall. It was a treacherous path, one not used often, but with the tree-bridge gone, the only other way to get back to the House was a bridge at the bottom of the falls. 

After stopping several times for Estel and Elrohir to check Faramir, the brothers finally reached the bridge. They made their way quickly across and were soon home. As they rushed through the door, they surprised Lord Elrond. "Why are you back so soon?" Seeing the shivering Faramir in Elladan's arms, as well as Elrohir and Estel's drenched state, Elrond quickly brought them to Faramir's room. "What has happened?" Elladan laid Faramir on the bed as Elrohir told their father about the broken tree and how Faramir was hurt. Estel collapsed in a chair, his head pounding. Elrond briskly ordered Elladan out, since Elrohir was the apprentice healer, as was Estel. Turning to Faramir, the elf lord frowned. First he wrapped the broken ribs, wincing at the young Man's cries of pain. Elrohir covered the shivering boy with blankets. Getting up from the chair, Estel lit the fire in the hearth. Elrond warmed milk over the fire while keeping an eye on Faramir. 

Coughs began racking Faramir's body causing jolts of fiery pain to lace through his chest. Helpless to do anything for him, Elrond checked over Estel who had a mild concussion. Estel stayed with Faramir as Elrond and Elrohir left to get the herbs needed to prevent pneumonia. He closed his eyes, remembering the events of the day. Why hadn't he just listened to his brothers? Had he turned back, the tree would not have broken and he wouldn't have fallen into the river. The Ranger knew that Tir had jumped in to save him and had succeeded. But what if it was at the cost of the boy's own life? Estel swore that he would never forgive himself if Tir died. 

As Estel sat by Faramir's bed, the Ranger was surprised when the boy opened his eyes slightly. Excited, Estel leaned over, but he was alarmed to see that Faramir's gray eyes were glazed over. The boy began murmuring in delirium. "Please... stop. Father... please don't. Hurts..." Faramir jerked as if struck. Worried, Estel ran out to find his father. 

"Tir opened his eyes, but he is delirious. He thinks he is being hurt, I do not know why."

 Elrond rushed into the room in time to hear Faramir cry out, "Please don't hurt me! Father please!" Kneeling next to the bed, the elf lord began speaking soft, Sindarin words in the boy's ear. Estel could not hear what was said, but it seemed to calm Faramir. Eyes closed again, he drifted off into a quiet slumber. Elrohir stirred the herbs into the warm milk and Elrond gently lifted Faramir up and poured the brew down the young Man's throat. After most of the concoction was swallowed, the elf laid Faramir back down and stood.   

Before Estel could speak, Elrond raised a hand to silence him. "My son, it is not my place anymore to answer your questions. It is up to Tir to tell you." Sometimes the Ranger marveled at his foster father's ability to sense his inquiries before he spoke. A glance at Elrohir told him that no answers would be found that way. Sighing, Estel resigned himself to waiting for Tir to wake up.

~*~

            All through the night Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, and Estel watched over Faramir. When the sun reached its peak the next day, shining through the window over his face, Faramir awoke, weakened, but out of danger. At that time, it was Estel's watch, so he was the only one in the room. "Good-morning Tir. How are you feeling?" Faramir tried to sit up, but his ribs disagreed. Wincing, he laid back on the pillows.

            "Estel! You are all right! I was worried about you." 

            Estel laughed. "Worried about me? You have given all of us a scare after what happened in the river." Faramir flinched, remembering the rock rolling over him.

            "There should be a rule that forbids heavy rocks from moving down a river. Someone could get hurt." Estel chuckled, but then his face grew solemn.

            "There is something I must ask. Father, Elladan, and Elrohir refuse to answer me. While you were delirious you cried out as if someone was hurting you, and you called him Father. You were not talking about Lord Elrond, for I know that you call him Ada."

            Faramir stared at his hands, not able to look Estel in the eye. "It is not worth talking about. It happened years ago and will not happen again." Estel was not content with that answer.

            "Obviously you still remember what happened vividly, or you would not dream about it."

            Faramir shrugged. "My mother died eight years ago. Father, that is my blood father, never got over it or the fact that I reminded him of her. Although he loves my brother, he has always hated and despised me and then, five years ago, he nearly killed me. My uncle stopped him and took me home with him. A year later I was brought here and have lived here ever since. It does not matter anymore." Incensed, Estel jumped to his feet.

            "It does not matter? How can you say that after what he did to you?" Faramir glanced up and stared eye to eye with Estel.

            "If I let it matter than Father wins. I will not let him, no matter how much it hurts." Yet even with these brave words, a pained looked crossed the boy's face. Before Estel could say anything, Elladan and Elrohir walked in.

            "Tir, you are awake! It is about time, young one." As the twins crowded around Faramir, Estel quietly slipped away to talk to Elrond. He found the elf in the library reading a book on healing herbs. 

            "Who is Tir's father, where can I find him, and what is the most painful poison you have available?" Elrond looked up from his book.

            "I have a feeling that Tir is awake and has told you about how he came to live here. I'm sorry, but I can only say that, although I believe as you do, it is not our place to bring justice to Tir's father."

            "How can you say that after what he did to Tir? Don't you care about him?" Elrond stood up and slammed his book on the table. 

            "Don't you _dare_ tell me that I do not care for him, he is my son, whether or not by blood! You know nothing about what happened, nothing! I say what I do only because it is up to Tir to forgive or condemn his father. Do not _ever_ say I do not care! Is that understood?" Elrond's fiery eyes told Estel that he had gone too far.

            Estel hung his head as his rage dimmed. "I am sorry, Father. I have let my anger run away with me again and I should not have said that about you. It just infuriates me that a father would try to kill his own son, the child he is suppose to protect!" Elrond placed a hand on his foster son's shoulder.

            "It angers me also, but I believe that, someday, Tir will have to face his father to fully heal." Estel nodded and headed toward the door. Stopping at the doorway, he turned to his foster father. 

            "That may be so, but so help me, if I ever find out who Tir's father is, I will not hesitate to kill that monster." 

Elrond sighed and shook his head as Estel left. He whispered to the empty room, "That, my son, is why I cannot tell you."            

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Please review! =D


	15. Chapter 15

I don't own Lord of the Rings or its characters

A;N/ Did anyone see that TT thing on the WB last night? It was SO COOL! Legolas in a bandanna is totally hot! I have two problems with it, though. One- they never mentioned Faramir AT ALL! And Two- THE STINKIN HOST CALLED THE ROHIRRIM 'ROHANS'!! it was something like: "Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf rode to Edoras, a city in the land of the Rohans to offer help. WHAT IS WITH THAT!! anyways

Reviewer Responses

Niliwen= Go easy? What is this 'going easy' you speak of? I do not think it is in my vocabulary. =D

Darn the Torpedoes= Imrahil's coming, don't worry. Sorry, but Elrond can be very tight-lipped when he wants to be. Estel will not hear anything from him.

JediKnightBalthasar= mammalian diving reflex? Sounds kool! Yes everyone wants to kill Faramir: his father, strangers, wild animals. . . oops don't want to give anything away ;D And children, especially teenagers, seem to tend to look at things they aren't suppose to. Father marks out words, teenager tries to figure out how to read them. The more the parent says not to, the harder they try. Worry not, the story continues! I will not abandon my faithful readers!

Ithilwen= It's scary, I tend to put a lot of poison in my stories. I didn't notice until you mentioned it.

Smeagol= I want to fence! That would be so kool! And yes, never make an elf lord angry, it's hazardous for your health.

Bradley Paranial= That's a good idea! Wish I had thought of that. But I already figured out where the story is going, and I decided I wanted to try and make it fit around the books, like an extension of Tolkien. Good idea though.

Steve- I'm not Tolkien? Oh yah, I forgot. =D I'm glad to be an inspiration. I can't wait to read your own stories when you have them. As I said above, don't worry, more to come. Thanks for reviewing!!

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3 years later, Faramir is age 16

            ***Elladan and Elrohir have left to ride with Estel and the Dunedain again. I have not seen my human foster brother in a long time, hopefully the twins will convince him to visit. They tell me that Estel has fallen in love with their sister, Arwen, who Estel had never met until he was full-grown. It still sounds funny, since Estel is my foster brother, and even though I never met her, Arwen is my foster sister. I am not quite sure how that works. I do not think Ada is too happy about it, since Arwen would have to give up her immortality to marry Estel. *** 

            Faramir stopped writing and looked up as Eluial entered the room. "Good morning, Eluial."

            "Good morning Tir. I thought you would like to know, your uncle is here talking to Lord Elrond." Faramir's gray eyes widened in surprise.

            "What? Why? I haven't seen him in seven years."

Eluial smiled. "He and Lord Elrond are in library, if you would like to ask them." Faramir thanked her. After the elf left, he quickly closed his notebook. His drawing of Elladan and Elrohir would have to wait until later. Hiding the book under the loose stone, he dashed out of the room towards the library.

            "Prince Imrahil, I am surprised to see you here." Elrond and Imrahil were seated at the library's table. Formal pleasantries had been exchanged already.

            "I would not be here, but I need your advice. This past year, my brother-in law has become quite agitated. He is insisting that I send Faramir back, for what reason I do not know."

            Elrond frowned. "Has he not done so before?"

            "Yes but this time is different. Now, he is mobilizing his army to lay siege on Dol Amroth until Faramir returns to Minas Tirith. How he managed that is beyond my knowledge."

            "That is not all, is it?"

            "Nay. As I journeyed here, I passed by a legion marching north. I was appalled to find out that they were on the same route as I. Somehow, Denethor has found out Rivendell's location and that Faramir is here. That is puzzling since only I, Freya, and Rendil knew Faramir was here. Of course Freya and I have said nothing, and Rendil would never reveal anything, I would trust him with my life. But how does not matter, for the legion is headed here and will not hesitate to attack."

            "What am I suppose to do? Rivendell does not have the resources or the soldiers to fight the armies of Gondor! We would be slaughtered!" 

            "No!" Imrahil and Elrond turned in unison towards the doorway where Faramir stood. "I will not let Rivendell and Dol Amroth fall because of me." He took in a deep breath. "I will return to Minas Tirith." Elrond stood to face Faramir.

            "We will find another way. I will not let you go back there." Faramir lifted his chin and met the elf lord's eyes with a determined stare.

            "You do not have a choice. Even if Estel and the Dunedain were to aid us, Rivendell would still fall, to say nothing of the people who would die in Dol Amroth. This is my decision and I will not yield." Imrahil stood to join Elrond.

            "Nephew, Minas Tirith is not safe. Your father..."

            "My father will not hurt me anymore. I will not let him," stated Faramir firmly.

            With great misgiving, Elrond relented. "If you wish this, then I cannot stop you."

            Faramir smiled, relieved that he had Elrond's blessing. "Thank you Ada."

            The three set out quickly. Faramir had just enough time to gather a few things before leaving. Elrond traveled with them until they reached the glade where Faramir had met his first elf. "I can go with you no further," said Elrond in a voice that told Faramir and Imrahil that he wished he could go with them all the way to Minas Tirith. The elf lord embraced his son. "Remember, Tir, that you can always come to me if you need anything. You are still my son no matter where you are. Take care of yourself."

            "I will be fine Ada. Thank you for everything you have done. Tell the twins and Estel that I will miss them." They parted and Elrond began walking back to Rivendell. Stopping, the elf lord turned around.

            "I love you, son."

            "I love you too, Ada." Faramir and Imrahil watched until Elrond disappeared beyond the trees before continuing their own journey. 

            Prince Imrahil marveled at the change in his nephew. In the seven years since they had parted ways, Faramir had grown strong and tall. He no longer held the pain so evident as a little boy. His intelligence shone through clear, gray eyes. Imrahil delighted in the conversations they shared as they traveled through Eregion. 

            Near the Misty Mountains, the two heard rustling in the bushes. A voice projected from nearby. "Identify yourselves and your lord if you wish to live." Imrahil answered.

            "I am Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and I demand that you show yourself now." There was a pause and a figure stepped out from behind a tree. It was a Man, tall and stately, with brown hair and stubble, and blue eyes. He wore the White Tree of Minas Tirith.

            "Uncle, what in the world are you doing out here?" It was Boromir, now twenty-one years old and a lieutenant in Gondor's army. He hadn't noticed Faramir yet, his surprise at seeing his uncle dulling his senses.

            "I am here to escort this young man here back to his home." Boromir's gaze switched to Faramir and his eyes widened in recognition.

            "Faramir!" Excited, Boromir pulled his brother into a hug, which Faramir gladly returned. Faramir had missed his brother greatly. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in eight years! You've grown!"

            Faramir laughed. "Brother, I have missed you. I am sorry for not visiting you, but I have been traveling with friends of Uncle's, learning so much about Middle Earth. It has been wonderful, though I am glad to see you again." That was the story that Imrahil had been using to answer Denethor's questions, so Faramir felt it was prudent to continue the charade. 

            "Come, my camp is this way. I will ask my captain for leave, I am sure he will grant my wish. We will ride to Minas Tirith tomorrow. It will be good to have you home, little brother."

            Boromir led the way. They stayed that night at his camp, eating with Boromir's fellow soldiers and sleeping on army cots. The fellowship that existed in the camp intrigued Faramir. Though he didn't love war, he knew that sometimes it was necessary to fight for your country, and these men were the epitome of patriots. The only dark spot of that night was the man in charge of the battalion. Colonel Lokir, the man that Faramir and Imrahil had slipped past during their flight to Rivendell, was in command. He presided over dinner and while cordial to both Prince Imrahil and Faramir, one could feel the antipathy he felt towards the two. After arriving in Dol Amroth, those eight years ago, it did not take him long to figure out that they were the travelers he had met on the road. He had never forgiven either man the embarrassment they caused even though the incident hadn't harmed his career, only his pride.

            Faramir and Imrahil rode into Minas Tirith a few evenings later. Boromir, having been given leave, rode with them, excited about being home. Faramir, on the other hand, felt his stomach twisting at the thought of seeing his father again for the first time in eight years. Imrahil glanced worriedly at his young nephew as they walked through the palace. Would Denethor try to kill Faramir again? The Prince of Dol Amroth prayed fervently that Denethor's anger would be cooled.

            As they walked up to the door of the Steward's study, a servant came up to them and bowed. "My Lord Denethor has asked that only his sons come in. My Prince may wait out here." Imrahil reluctantly agreed, and the two brothers entered. 

            At first, Faramir was not sure what to do. His father stood by a small window, looking east across the city. Denethor looked just as imposing as Faramir remembered. The Steward spoke as he turned to face his sons. "Well, Faramir, I see you have decided to grace us with your presence. I have had enough of you gallivanting around Middle Earth with no care at all for your people." 

            Boromir frowned at the icy tone of Denethor's voice. He didn't know exactly what Faramir had been doing these past few years, but he highly doubted that his brother didn't care about Minas Tirith, especially after the joyful look on Faramir's face at the sight of his home. Denethor matched Boromir's frown with his own. "Boromir, thank you for returning your errant brother. Please go see that your uncle is seen to." Boromir bowed and left Faramir alone with Denethor.

            The silence hung over father and son like a thunder cloud heavy with rain. Finally Denethor spoke. "I am surprised you left your home among those egotistical elves. Considering you lived there for seven years, I suppose you have become as weak and arrogant as they."

            Faramir's eyes blazed in anger at the insult to his adopted people. "I came back because I did not want a war to break out and because I _do_ care about my people. But I'll have you know, Father, that those 'egotistical elves', as you call them, are honorable and strong, especially compared to some of the corrupt Men I have seen."  Rage filled Denethor and he swung a hand at Faramir's face. Faramir blocked the strike with his own hand. "You will not hit me again, Father. I am no longer a small child you can terrorize." 

            Denethor stared in disbelief and then in anger. Composing himself, he glared icily at his younger son. In a formal voice, the Steward told Faramir, "You will be assigned to a regiment where you will learn to defend Gondor. If you do well as a regular soldier, you will be promoted to an officer position. You may go, and send Prince Imrahil in." Denethor turned back to the window and Faramir quietly left.

            He found Imrahil and Boromir talking in the hallway. "Father wishes to see you Uncle." Imrahil studied Faramir's face. He saw the shadow of disappointment, but also the sternness of pride. Nodding, he left the brothers to go to the study. The moment Imrahil entered, he felt the frigid scowl of the Steward.

            "This game is over Imrahil. Faramir is no longer under your or the elves' control. You are to leave Minas Tirith and not to return unless summoned. Also, you are not to contact either of my sons without first asking me for permission. Be glad I do not take total control of Dol Amroth for your insolence. Leave immediately."

            Imrahil's whole body was tight in withheld rage. "It is as you wish, my lord. I do ask that I be allowed to say farewell to my nephews." Denethor nodded his consent. His fists clenched, the Prince left the study to where Boromir and Faramir waited. Imrahil managed to calm himself. Anger would not help this situation. "I am afraid that I must leave for Dol Amroth now, under the Steward's orders. It may be some time before we speak again, so good-bye and take care, both of you." Boromir shook his uncle's hand, then left as he sense that Imrahil wished to talk to Faramir alone. "I am not allowed to contact you or your brother, but if you ever need help, Rendil has retired and now lives outside Minas Tirith, in the woods. Just send word to him and he will get the message to me." 

            Faramir nodded. "Why has Rendil retired, though? He is not too old."

            "He lost some fingers in a hunting accident and cannot handle his sword like he used to. He married and moved up here. In fact, he married that healer, Iorwyn." Faramir smiled. The former guard and the fiery healer were a perfect match.

            "I will miss you Uncle. Please say hello to Aunt Freya for me. Thank you for everything you have done. I will always remember it." They shared a brief hug and Imrahil departed. As the Prince left Minas Tirith, he looked back. The Tower of Ecthelion stood out against the full, pale moon. A strange light flickered in the top-most window. Imrahil shook his head. He must be seeing things. Yet he could not shake the dread he felt as the light glowed in the darkness. 

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Alrighty. Three guesses on what the flickering light is and the first two don't count.  Imrahil, will be back, as will Iorwyn and Rendil. In fact, they have an important part to play.


	16. Chapter 16

Same disclaimer as last chapter and the chapter before that and the chapter before that. 

A:N/ I am feeling nice tonight. As such, I will honor you with another chapter. Be happy!

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2 years later, Faramir is 18

            Faramir smiled and waved at his brother. Both were on leave, Boromir from Osgiliath and Faramir from Ithilien. They had decided to meet at the stables in Minas Tirith to go camping together for a night in the countryside. Boromir strode up and hugged his little brother. "All ready? Then let's head out!"

            They rode far beyond the walls of the city. Though the sun still shone, they set up camp amidst a grove of trees. Sitting on fallen logs, the horses tethered nearby, the two brothers exchanged stories. "And then Captain Gilliar's horse shied from it and he fell off, bruising his tail bone. He was so mad, he vowed to hunt all skunks to extinction! I think he was lucky the skunk didn't spray. . . " Faramir's story was cut off by the terrified whinny of his horse. Senses on alert, the two Lords of Gondor drew their weapons. Faramir narrowed his eyes as the first howls were heard. "Orcs." Boromir only had time to glance grimly at his brother before the monsters attacked. 

            Faramir didn't know how long they would be able to hold off so many orcs without help. An endless stream came at them. The brothers fought close together to help each other. Sweat poured down Faramir's forehead in torrents. Suddenly, a blast sounded from the Horn of Gondor, calling for help. As Boromir did this, he left himself open for attack. Faramir saw an orc archer aiming for Boromir's unprotected side. In a split moment, the younger lord pushed Boromir to the side. Fire ran through Faramir's left arm and he looked down to see an orc arrow sticking out of his shoulder, blood spilling from the wound. Another orc attacked, and Faramir had to forget his injury and concentrate on fighting. Boromir, only momentarily stunned, quickly came to help his brother. Faramir found himself facing a particularly vicious orc. The monster grinned evilly at him, then shot a foul hand out and pushed up on the arrow imbedded in Faramir's shoulder. White lightning flashed across his eyes from the pain as the shaft broke, leaving the arrowhead buried in his flesh. The orc used this distraction to swing his sword at Faramir, but Boromir blocked it as his brother collected himself again. On and on they fought. Both were desperately tired and they knew that soon a fatal mistake would be made.

            To their great relief, another horn sounded through the woods. A small division of infantry charged through the trees, led by a young lieutenant, hardly older than Faramir. Surprised, the orcs fled before the soldiers. One lone sergeant stayed behind, quickly dismounting his horse. "My lords, we came as quickly as possible when we heard your call. Lord Faramir, you are wounded!" 

            Faramir studied the extent of his injury. The arrow had hit just below his left shoulder and blood spurted out with each beat of his heart. His head swam, both from loss of blood and from the adrenaline of the fight, and he spoke haltingly. "The arrow head is still in there. Do you have a healer?"

            The sergeant shook his head. "Our healer was killed recently and any veteran men who might know how to remove it are fighting the orcs now. You must ride back to Minas Tirith."

            Boromir looked helplessly at his brother. Minas Tirith was too far away, Faramir needed help now. As Boromir quickly wrapped his shoulder with a strip of cloth, Faramir's muddled thoughts managed to figure out a solution. "Boromir, nearby... an old friend of mine and his wife live. The wife is a healer and he is a former soldier. They might be able to help." Boromir's eyes lit up with newfound hope. 

            "Sergeant, our horses fled during the attacks, we need to use yours." The sergeant hastily agreed and helped them onto the horse. With Faramir in front of him, Boromir headed quickly to where Faramir had told him Rendil and Iorwyn lived. Faramir's wound continued to bleed, his green tunic stained brown. After what seemed like eternity to both brothers, a house appeared. 

Iorwyn was splitting logs in the yard when she saw the Steward's sons ride up, battered and bloody. Forgetting her ax, she ran to the horse. "My lords, what has happened?" Boromir dismounted and gently helped Faramir down. Iorwyn quickly led Faramir into the house and onto the bed. She turned expectantly to Boromir who hadn't answered her question yet.

"Orcs attacked and Faramir was hit by and arrow. The shaft broke, leaving the head inside his shoulder. It won't stop bleeding! Please, help him!" Boromir, tired from battle and worried about his brother, didn't even try to hide his distress. Iorwyn checked the wound and frowned.

"I do not do battle wounds often, Rendil is the one with experience. But he will not be home until tomorrow."

"You must do something, he won't last till tomorrow!" Iorwyn held up her hand to calm Boromir.

"Of course I can remove the arrowhead. I just hope it isn't poisoned, for I know nothing about that." She professionally gathered her healing herbs and a pair of small metal pliers. Without turning her head, she told Boromir, "You must hold him down. He must not move or I may cause more harm than good. Faramir, this is going to feel like torture, but I cannot give you anything to dull the pain. With the amount of blood you have lost, it could kill you. Bite down on this." She placed a leather glove in Faramir's mouth as Boromir held down his arms. Taking a deep breath, Iorwyn opened the wound with one hand and began searching for the arrowhead with the small pliers. 

Faramir nearly fainted as the agony started. His body struggled against Iorwyn. Boromir held him down tighter, grimacing at the obvious torment his brother was in. Faramir tried desperately not to scream, clenching his teeth against the glove. Iorwyn finally sighted the arrowhead and pulled it out as quickly as possible. Pain laced through Faramir so suddenly that he couldn't hold back a muffled cry. His breathing was labored, sweat streaming off his face. As Iorwyn held the arrowhead up, Faramir's heart sank as he saw the telltale shine of poison on it. Seeing his brother's face, Boromir realized the same. "It is poisoned." Iorwyn looked sadly at them.

"I do not know orc poisons. Even if I knew what kind it was, I would not know how to treat it." Boromir felt nauseated. He too, didn't know much about orc poisons, he had always left that to the army healers. Having heard their conversation, Faramir spoke up.

"Put. . . put it in water." Puzzled, Iorwyn dropped the arrowhead into a glass of water by the bed. It began sizzling and smoking and she quickly drew back her hand. Faramir, though his mind was muddled, clearly heard Lord Elrond's voice in his mind, reciting the rhyme about poisons.

If colored clear, do not fear.

If it is green, use herbal cream.

If gold is heeded, then potion is needed.

If water is blue, run fire through.

If it's black or red, it's too late, you're dead.

The smoke cleared and Iorwyn held the glass up so Faramir could see it. The water shimmered bright blue. Faramir sighed. "If water is blue, run fire through." Boromir raised an eyebrow in question. "Iorwyn, You... need to clean the wound with wine. Set an iron... iron poker in the fire. You will need... need to clean the wound with the heated poker for at least ten. . .ten seconds." 

"But Faramir, you could die from the shock!" objected Boromir. He looked to Iorwyn for support, but she seemed to agree with Faramir.

"He _may_ die from the shock, he _will_ die from the poison. It is his only option." Boromir reluctantly allowed it and held Faramir down for even more pain. The wine stung, but nothing compared to the searing agony of the heated iron. Boromir watched helplessly as Faramir 's face contorted with pain, eyes glazed over, barely conscious. He began praying that Faramir would faint, just to end the torment. Iorwyn cringed as another muffled scream tore from the young man's throat. Just four more seconds. Two. One. Finally, she pulled the iron away from the wound and Faramir fell back against the pillow. As Boromir squeezed his brother's hand, Iorwyn wrapped the cauterized wound with clean linen cloths. When she looked up, she was relieved to see that Faramir had finally given into sleep. She covered him with the blankets, and went about cleaning up the blood. 

Boromir numbly helped Iorwyn clean, always keeping an eye on his brother. By the time they finished, the sun had set. Since Faramir occupied the bed, Boromir sat in Rendil's chair, while Iorwyn slept in her own. Yet Boromir had a hard time falling asleep, Faramir's pale face suspended in front of his eyes like a specter. All he could remember was feeling Faramir shove him and turning to see the arrow pierce his brother's chest. He remembered the horror and fear he felt in that moment, not knowing if the wound had been instantly fatal. The relief he felt when Faramir continued fighting. The pain knowing that Minas Tirith was too far away and the relief that there was a healer nearby. And always, Faramir's face as the arrowhead was removed and the wound cleaned by the hot iron. Boromir held back a frustrated cry. It was all his fault! Faramir was injured trying to protect him. He was the older brother; he should have been protecting Faramir. As he continued to berate himself, Boromir drifted off to sleep, exhausted from everything that had happened that day.

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*sigh* I cannot last two chapters without hurting Faramir. Oh well, angst is good. At least, that is what Evil Skittle keeps telling me. =D


	17. Chapter 17

Grrr. NO MORE DISCLAIMERS EVERYONE KNOWS I DON"T OWN LORD OF THE RINGS!

wow! Three posts in one night! You are very lucky readers. Call it an early Christmas present.

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"Lord Boromir, wake up." Boromir groaned and tried to block out the voice. A hand shook his shoulder. "Lord Boromir, if you do not get up this instant I shall have to mix up an incredibly horrid tasting potion and forcibly pour it down your throat." His eyes flew open and he jumped quickly out of the chair. He groaned, his neck cramped from sleeping sitting down. As he rubbed his neck he glared at Iorwyn.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, there is a man at my door insisting on seeing you. I believe he is in the army, a sergeant I think. Will you please see him before he annoys me to death?" Since Boromir's mind was only just waking up, it took him awhile to process what she was saying. As Iorwyn continued to glare at him, he quickly realized that it would be much safer to go talk to the sergeant.

Boromir found the man standing outside the door, fidgeting. The sergeant jumped to attention when he saw Boromir. "My Lord, I followed your trail, per Lieutenant Hiron's orders. The Lieutenant wishes to know what your orders are, sir. Oh, and we found your horses and I brought them. Sir." Boromir, not being a morning person, stifled a yawn.

"Sergeant, tell Lieutenant Hiron to return to Minas Tirith and inform my father about the orc attack and my brother's injury. Faramir is not in any condition to ride, so we will stay here until he is better. Oh, you may take your horse with you, my thanks for its use." The sergeant looked relieved at Boromir's nonchalant attitude. The Lord of Gondor shook his head as the soldier left. The man probably thought he would bite his head off for having the healer wake him up. Boromir walked back into the small house where Iorwyn was busy making breakfast. She looked up as he entered.

"Is he gone?" Boromir nodded. "Good. I tried telling him that you were asleep, but every five minutes he would ask if you had woken yet. He wouldn't even come inside, said that he 'couldn't intrude on a lady's house. It isn't proper.' Silly pansy. Wouldn't breathe unless someone commanded him to." Boromir grinned at the healer's ranting. It faded instantly at her glare. Iorwyn continued speaking. "I don't believe that we have been properly introduced yet. My name is Iorwyn, daughter of Magni and Ioreth. My husband, Rendil, is visiting relatives in Dol Amroth and should be home today."

"A pleasure to meet you Lady Iorwyn. May I ask how my brother is faring?" At that, Iorwyn frowned.

"He has a fever and has not gained consciousness yet. I fear it may have to do with the poison, but I don't know what. Hopefully Rendil will return soon, he will know what to do." The still-grumpy-from-being-woken-up-and-having-to-deal-with-jumpy-soldiers Boromir wasn't thinking clearly and made the mistake of angering Iorwyn.

"I thought you were a healer? What kind of healer doesn't know how to deal with fever and poisons?" Iorwyn's glared at Boromir, who wasn't her favorite person to begin with, after he had ignored her pleas to help his brother ten years ago. 

"Pardon me, _my Lord_ but because, as a woman, I am not allowed on battlefields, there is no way to learn how to treat poisoned wounds. I treat children's broken arms, cuts, and bruises. The peasant people come to me because all the taxes your father levies on them drain them of the money they need to afford professionals. I work with the people suffering from mal-nourishment, typhoid, malaria, and other illnesses that the common people endure while you nobles sit in your upper levels, throwing out excess food while the people starve. You don't realize that your people are dying, while you live comfortably in your palace. Lord Faramir is the only noble I know who cares enough to try and help those less fortunate than he. He has been back only two years, spending most of his time in Ithilien as a soldier, yet he has managed to set up a program giving food to the hungry, and has ordered that all old clothes be re-tailored and distributed to the poor instead of being thrown out. You didn't know that did you? Perhaps you should pay more attention to your brother, you might learn something. You may even learn to respect your elders. Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to go chop firewood."

Several moments passed before Boromir moved again. He got the distinct feeling that Iorwyn didn't like him. Any anger he might have felt at her insults was crushed under the feeling of shock and shame that he hadn't really known or cared about his own people. What kind of Steward would he make if he didn't know how those under him lived? His history instructor had repeatedly reminded him that to rule without rebellion, one must care for the people. Yet he had never given them a second glance. Boromir glance at his sleeping brother. Faramir cared for the people of Gondor. Boromir set his mind to ask his brother how he could help when he woke up. 

Rendil returned early that afternoon. Boromir, having skillfully dodged Iorwyn's glare for hours, was very happy to meet the surprised former guard. Knowing his wife's dislike for the Steward's Heir, Rendil was relieved to see that he was alive and unscathed. The veteran soldier was immediately led to Faramir who still burned with fever. Iorwyn informed her husband about the injury and how it had been treated. Rendil nodded approvingly when she mentioned the treatment for the poison. "The poison was most likely a kind of death-glob. It stays in the wound and doesn't spread, but grows and leaves the wound open to infection. The wine softens the glob and then the heat of the iron destroys it. Unfortunately, the infection usually stills occur, although to a lesser extent. Hissing-lilies and killweed mixed in a broth should bring the fever down. Do not worry, my lord, your brother will probably wake by tomorrow's dinner." Boromir breathed a sigh of relief. He saw Iorwyn glare at him and quickly moved so that Faramir stood between them.

'Stop that,' he told himself. 'What would Father think, you scared of an old woman?' Another glare and Boromir realized that even Denethor would cower in fear under Iorwyn's eyes. Now that he had time to think back, she had never looked at him kindly and her voice had always held a cold tone in it. He wondered what he had done to have her hate him so much.

            "Dear, you should try to be more civil to him. He is the Steward's Heir." Faramir pulled himself back to consciousness to the sounds of Rendil and Iorwyn arguing. Not having the strength the open his eyes, Faramir just listened, happy to apparently be alive. At least, he didn't think that you could hurt in the afterworld as much as his body did now.

            "Rendil, he could be the Grand Potentate of Valinor and the Walls of the Sun, I still wouldn't like him."

            "Why?" Rendil and Iorwyn turned simultaneously at the sound of Faramir's soft voice. Both faces melted into relieved smiles.

            "It is good to see you awake, my lord," they exclaimed in unison. The twin movements and speech seemed so funny to Faramir that he began laughing. Unfortunately, his shoulder did not feel in the mood to laugh and he quickly stopped when it protested. As husband and wife checked him over, Faramir returned to his question.

            "Why do you not like my brother, Iorwyn?"

            "He is haughty and insolent and disrespectful to his elders. He does nothing for the good of the people of Gondor except make war. I know he is trying to protect us from the foes in the East, but a country cannot fight if the people are hungry, Faramir. Lord Boromir does not understand that." While Faramir acknowledged these reasons, knowing them to be true, he felt that she wasn't telling everything.

            "That is not the full reason why you do not like him." Iorwyn sighed. 

            "Ten years ago, I tried to tell him about what was happening to you. He would not listen. It pains me to think about what would have happened if Prince Imrahil hadn't shown up. I have never forgiven Lord Boromir for not listening." 

            Faramir smiled somewhat sadly. "He had no reason to believe you. I hid things well. Perhaps too well." He looked up at Iorwyn. "I never got to thank you for helping me then. I believe this is twice you have saved my life."

            She patted his hand like a mother with a child. "Let's just not make it a recurring event."

            Hating to break up the touching reunion, Rendil hesitantly spoke up. "My lord, I believe your brother will wish to know you are awake."

            "Rendil, please, you are my friend. Call me Faramir." Just then Boromir walked in. He had been working outside to keep away from Iorwyn and came in warily to ask Rendil for help with the chickens. A grin came to Boromir's face at seeing his brother up and well. 

            "Faramir! I am glad to see that you are finally awake! You had us worried for a while there." He gently gave Faramir a hug, careful not to squeeze the young man's healing shoulder. 

            "Yes, well, I am feeling much better now, brother. We should be leaving soon, Father will not be pleased at our absence." Boromir frowned.

            "Let him worry, you are not in any condition to leave. We will go home when I feel you are well enough."

            "I agree with Lord Boromir," commented Rendil. "I would like you to stay here so that we can be sure there will be no ill after-effects from the poison." 

            Faramir could not hold back a smile at the three concerned and stubborn faces. "I believe I am outnumbered. Very well, as long as we don't impose on you, we will stay."

            Faramir and Boromir stayed at Rendil and Iorwyn's house for five more days before returning to Minas Tirith. Several messengers had come during that time from Denethor demanding that Boromir leave for Minas Tirith immediately, but he refused, determined to stay with his little brother. Faramir knew that Denethor would not be pleased, but Boromir would not listen to his objections. Thus it was that the two brothers rode into Minas Tirith to meet with a very annoyed Steward. 

~*~

            A frustrated Faramir strode down the halls. Why couldn't his father say one nice thing to him, just one nice thing? As soon as they entered the palace, Boromir and Faramir were escorted to their father's study. Things went as usual. Denethor began berating Faramir for his idiocy while Boromir tried to defend his brother. Faramir himself never said anything in his own defense, knowing it to be useless. Yet it still hurt that his father hadn't even said that he was glad to see that he was alive. In fact, the Steward was just glad that it had been Faramir who had been hurt and not Boromir. Denethor hadn't said so in his words, for Boromir would not have stood for that, but Faramir read it in his father's eyes. Faramir balled his hands into fists, trying to control his anger. It wasn't fair! Why didn't his father love him? Tears began welling in his eyes, but he angrily kept them back. Faramir hadn't cried since the night when Lord Elrond had saved him from his dreams, and he wasn't going to start crying now. 

            "Faramir!" He stopped and turned to Boromir who was hastily trying to catch up with him. "Faramir, where are you going?"

            "No where."

            Boromir gave Faramir a skeptical look. "You have to be going somewhere. Please tell me." Faramir rolled his eyes at the puppy dog look his brother gave him. 

            "Very well, just quit looking at me like that, it's undignified." Boromir grinned in triumph. "I am going walking through the city. There are some people I would like to see."

            "Can I come?" Faramir glanced quizzically at his brother.

            "They are not nobles, they are peasants. I just want to make sure they are doing well, and see if they need any help."

            "I know. Can I come? I want to help." Faramir saw a hopeful look in Boromir's eyes. He truly did want to help. Faramir's face broke into a broad smile.

            "I would love your help, brother."

~*~

            Denethor, Steward of Gondor, stepped silently into his youngest son's room. He sighed in frustration when he saw that Faramir wasn't there. The Steward knew that his words earlier that day had been harsher than needed and guilt had plagued him since. He had finally given in to his disapproving conscience and went to apologize to his son. Yet Faramir was gone. Denethor glanced around the room. Since Faramir spent most of his time as a Ranger in Ithilien, the room was stark, undecorated and empty of all signs of habitation. Denethor frowned. Not totally empty. The sun shone through the windows onto a desk cluttered with papers. 

Almost unconsciously, the Steward walked over to the desk and began shuffling through the writings. Or, to be more precise, the drawings. The majority of the drawings were sketches with no color, yet the shading gave each picture a life of their own. Sunlight gleamed on the Tower of Ecthelion. An Ithilien Ranger strung his bow near the shimmering falls of Henneth Annun. Boromir fought a hideous orc whose evil glare caused a shiver to run up Denethor's spine. There was a picture of Denethor himself, seated on the Steward's Chair, head held high, as he listened to one of the nobles speaking. A young servant girl smiled as she scrubbed the palace floor. Denethor stared in shock as he realized that Faramir had drawn all of these. He was amazed at his son's talent, and a piece of his heart was moved at the emotion he felt radiating from each picture. Yet the dark voice rose up in his mind as he looked at another picture. Denethor had never met this . . . man. . . before, but he knew who it was. It was as the palantir had shown him years before. A stately elf stared at him from the paper, eyes seeming to bore into Denethor's soul. The Steward clutched the picture of Lord Elrond, his hands trembling in anger. This was the creature who took Faramir, tried to turn him against Denethor and Gondor. The dark voice spoke.

**That elf twisted Faramir's mind. Faramir hates you because of him. Faramir was weak, he was easily deceived. You returned Faramir to his rightful place, but now you find that he still follows _him_*. These scribblings show that. **

            In a rage, Denethor threw the sketch of Elrond into the open fireplace and watched as the fire slowly consumed the picture. Not satisfied, Denethor threw each drawing into the fire, one at a time. The servant girl, Boromir, the Ranger, the Tower of Ecthelion, each burnt to ash. A crazed grin spread across the Steward's face as the pictures disappeared into the flames. Only one was left in his hand and he prepared to toss that one in as well, but stopped. He stared at the picture for seconds, for eons, trying to comprehend what he saw. On the page was Denethor kneeling on the floor. In his arms he held a small child, protecting the little boy from some outside danger. The Steward's mind reeled as he recognized the small boy. It was Faramir, not even five years old. The Faramir in the picture seemed to feel happy, safe, content... loved? The representation of Denethor gazed upon his son with a loving smile. The real Denethor gasped. This was Faramir's wish, his heart's desire. To have his father's love and protection, to be content and safe. Denethor's head spinned. He dropped the picture and ran away in confusion, heading to the secret room in the Tower to get his thoughts straight. The picture fluttered to the floor, only to be picked up by a breeze from an open window and flown to join the other drawings in the fire. The paper crinkled and slowly turned to ash, the picture of loving father and son destroyed by red flame.

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Don't know when the next chapter will come. Sooner, the more you ask. =D (can you tell I like the little grin-face? Can you even tell it's a grin?)


	18. Chapter 18

Hiya everyone! I can't believe it, but 'Faramir's story' has over 70 reviews! Thanks to everyone who contributed, you guys inspire me to keep writing. **Additional author's note:** I changed Denethor's response to Faramir's question, hope it is better than before.  
Reviewer Responses  
Niliwen= Denethor? Nice? Ummmm, maybe. You'll have to read for yourself.  
Steve- What do you mean? I don't love sleeping. =D hehe *shifts eyes nervously* Anyway, henneth Annun should be in the two towers so we will get to see it!  
Smeagol= yes poor Gollum was in it. I feel so bad for Andy Serkis, he had to pretend to dive after a fish in freezing water, and they made him do it FOUR TIMES!!! Gollum is so not a heroin addict, schzophrenic maybe, but not an addict. Awww, don't hurt the poor kid. Little kids are kool. And I warn you again, making Elrond angry is NOT wise. Neither is surgery without gloves like Iorwyn. Sorry, but I see middle earth kinda medievil and they certainly didn't use sanitation then. And you notice, Faramir did get infected, but he's strong and got over it. Hehe. Darth Denethor! Nope, he's still an evil jerk. You'll see more of that later. Happy Hanukah!  
Arabella Figg= He's not a Ranger, per se, but a soldier. He kinda moves up the ranks until he leads the ithilien rangers.  
Ithilwen= If you like Boromir, I have more of him soon. I fear I am very into angst, especially when it ends with mush. I take it you're an artist? I was thinking of having Faramir find his artwork destroyed, but I thought the atmosphere would be ruined. I was going for a little foreshadowing, if you can tell.  
  
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17 years later Faramir is 35  
  
  
Seek for the Sword that was broken:  
In Imladris it dwells;  
There shall be counsels taken  
Stronger than Morgul-spells.  
There shall be shown a token  
That Doom is near at hand,  
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,  
And the Halfling forth shall stand.  
  
  
          Faramir awoke with a start, then settled back down to his pillow, stifling a groan. The same dream continued to plague him through his nights. Why was it telling him to go to Rivendell? Did it mean to actually go to the Shards of Narsil, or to Estel, the rightful wielder of the sword? What was Isildur's Bane, orc arrows or something else? And what in Varda's name was a Halfling? His thoughts were interrupted when Boromir burst into his room. Both were in Minas Tirith for the first time in months. "Faramir, you are the far-sighted one, I need your help."  
          "With what, brother?" Boromir sat at the end of Faramir's bed.  
          "You know that I do not have dreams such as yours." Faramir nodded for him to continue when he hesitated. "Tonight, though, I feel differently about my dream. I saw a light in the west and a voice crying out: Seek for the Sword that was broken. In Imladris it dwells. There shall be counsels taken, stronger than Morgul-spells. There shall be shown a token that Doom is near at hand," Faramir recited the last part with Boromir. "For Isildur's Bane shall waken, and the Halfling forth shall stand." Boromir was startled that his brother already knew his dream.  
          Faramir too, was startled. Never before had Boromir had a prophetic dream, though his blood was the same. "Boromir, I also dreamt the same tonight, as I have many nights since the fall of Osgiliath. I do not know its meaning in full, only that we must go to Imladris to find the broken sword."  
          "I agree. We should ask Father tomorrow of the location of this Imladris for I will wish to start my journey as soon as possible."  
          The younger brother arched his eyebrows in question. "Your journey? I believe, Boromir, that as the youngest, it should be me who travels. You are needed here in Gondor."  
          Boromir grinned. "And you are needed in Ithilien. You cannot win the argument that way, brother." He stood up and headed for the door. "Good- night, Faramir. We will talk to Father tomorrow, and see who he chooses to go." With that he left Faramir to contemplate how to convince Denethor that he was the right son to send.  
  
          Both brothers got up early and headed to their father's study to talk with him. Denethor listened silently as they told of their dreams, although he did tense up at the mention of Imladris. As the brothers finished their tale, Denethor stood. "Am I to believe that both of you wish to know more about this Imladris." Boromir nodded his head while Faramir just stared at his father. "Very well. I know little except that Imladris is the elven name of a far northern dale, home of Elrond Halfelven." Faramir couldn't help but notice the tone of dislike in Denethor's voice at the mention of Lord Elrond. Boromir, though, did not and was quick to speak.  
          "Father, I wish to ride in search of the Sword that was broken." 

          Faramir objected. "I do not think, father, that Boromir is the person who should search. He is needed here, while I am but the younger son. Send me to Imladris."  
          "As the elder son I beseech permission to go on this quest. Faramir is just as needed in Gondor as I. Father, I feel that finding the Sword is crucial to the survival of our country." Denethor held up his hand before either son could continue.  
          "I have listened to both of your arguments. Leave me so that I may make my decision without interruption. I will call you both back in when I am ready." Faramir and Boromir bowed and left Denethor to his thoughts.  
  
*You should send Faramir. He knows the ways of the elves, he can convince them to come to Gondor's aid.*  
**No, send Boromir. Faramir is too weak, the elves will control him, make him betray Minas Tirith.**

*Faramir is not weak. He is trusted by Lord Elrond, he will show the greatness of your country.*  
**Not as well as Boromir. The dreams mention Isildur's Bane. It could be a great weapon to use. Boromir will bring it to you, for the good of Gondor. Faramir will do whatever the elves tell him, even if it means Gondor's destruction.**  
  
          The voices warred within Denethor's mind. Finally he had had enough. The Steward called his sons back in. Standing tall and regal, he declared, "Boromir shall ride to Imladris. He is the elder and deserves this honor. Faramir, you will return to your post in Ithilien." Faramir began to protest, but Denethor refused to listen. "I will have no arguments. I am Steward and my word is final. You are dismissed." Boromir left, but Faramir refused to follow.  
          "Father, you know that I am the best suited to go to Rivendell. Why do you refuse me?"  
          Denethor glared at his son. "I know I can trust Boromir in this task. But you, on the other hand, can not be trusted with so vital a mission. It pains me that you will be in charge of the army while your brother is gone, but it cannot be helped. Just see to it that you do not destroy Gondor before Boromir returns." The Steward's chest felt strange as he saw the wounded look on his younger son's face, but he ignored it and dismissed Faramir. //Valar, bring Boromir home soon. I cannot depend on so pathetic a son.// 

  
          Boromir left a week later on the fourth day of the seventh month. Faramir hadn't been there when Denethor had bid farewell to his son, but as Boromir left the city gates, he stepped out of the shadows. "Take care, Boromir. I love you, brother."  
          The Steward's heir smiled down from his seat on his horse. "I love you too little brother. Be careful out there in Ithilien. I will be back before you know I am gone." Boromir rode off into the distance, turning back one to wave. Yet as his brother disappeared over a hill, Faramir couldn't shake the feeling that he would never see Boromir again.  
  
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next chapter deals with Boromir. Hope you don't mind that I take the focus off Faramir a bit.


	19. Chapter 19

This part of the story follows Boromir instead of Faramir. I felt that I couldn't ignore this part of the story, especially considering its later importance. 

Reviwer Responses

JediKnightBalthasar= I kinda messed up with Denethor concerning Isildur's Bane. I'm not sure what I was going for there. I think it had to do with Denethor not liking the fact that Boromir was going to be gone. Oh well, call it an author's mistake. Sorry.

Ithilwen= I too thought Faramir was one of Tolkien's best characters. He seemed to have so much more emotion and personality than even Aragorn. I read somewhere that Tolkien also liked Faramir best and actually modeled him after himself. Don't worry, I too am overprotective of my writing and artwork, even if I'm not very good. 

Narn= Heir of Tolkien? Hmmmm, I could get used to that. Lets see, Lirenel Greenleaf, Heir of Tolkien. I like the sound of it. =D Thank you for your compliments, they really encourage me to keep writing.

Smeagol= 4 more days, 4 more days!! Well, I count it as 4 because its nighttime so that means its close to tomorrow when it will be 4 days. Can you tell I'm desperate? I WANT MOVIE!!!! I will cheer for Gollum with you. I feel that he is one of the most important people in the movie. I found his theme song online, and it is really good. 

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            One hundred and ten days. One hundred and ten days of riding, running, and rain. Boromir sighed as he traveled by the Bruinen River. One hundred and ten days and not a sign of a single blasted elf! Not one bloody. . . ^Halt mortal! You enter the lands of Lord Elrond.^ So much for no elves. Boromir found himself surrounded by at least ten immortals, probably more that he couldn't see. He held up his hands in surrender. Thanking the Valar, and Faramir, that he knew Sindarin, he spoke to the elf. 

            ^Master elf, I am Boromir son of the Steward Denethor of Gondor. I am here on a search for the elven city of Imladris.^ Frowning, the elf he spoke to turned to another who stood beside him. Boromir had to look twice before realizing that the two elves were mirror copies of each other. They spoke in another language, probably Quenya, Boromir thought. The elf turned back to him.

            ^I am Elladan and this is my brother Elrohir. Come, we will see if Lord Elrond will speak with you.^

            The twins led Boromir into Rivendell. The Man stared in amazement at the beauty of the place. He was so busy gazing around that he almost didn't notice when Elladan and Elrohir stopped. Opening a door, the twins walked into Elrond's study, Boromir close behind them. The elf lord sat at his desk, pondering the events of that morning. Little over two hours before, Frodo Baggins the Hobbit had woken up, healed of his wound. The Council would be held the next day. Lord Elrond stood up when his sons entered followed by a strange man wearing the crest of Gondor. ^Father, we found this man near the river.^ said Elrohir. ^We did not know if he was here for the council, so we decided to bring him to you.^ He spoke in Quenya so as not to be understood by Boromir.

            ^Very well my sons. He comes from Gondor; perhaps he will be helpful.^ The twins left and Elrond turned his attention to Boromir. The Man seemed familiar to Elrond, though he couldn't place where. "Welcome to Rivendell. I am Lord Elrond."

            Boromir bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your welcome. I am Boromir, son of Steward Denethor of Gondor." It took all of Elrond's control to keep from swaying backwards in shock. That was why the Man seemed so familiar, he was Tir's brother! Luckily, Boromir did not notice the elf lord's surprise and continued speaking. "I have come here seeking an answer to a dream both my brother and I have had. Since Faramir is prone to prophetic dreams, we felt it prudent to figure out the dream's meaning." Boromir related the dream to Elrond who nodded in understanding. When he was done, Boromir asked if the elf could help him.

"Lord Boromir, tomorrow a council will be held that deals with what your dream is about. I ask that you wait until then to learn the answers to your questions. Come, I will have a servant show you to a room." The servant was very surprised when Elrond instructed him that Boromir was to have Faramir's old room. No one had stayed there since the Man had left years before. The servant said nothing, though, and Boromir found himself alone in a strange elven house, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He decided that it was best to rest while he could, and lay down on the soft bed.

            Boromir awoke after only a half-hour rest. At first he was startled by the unfamiliar surroundings, then got out of bed when he realized where he was. The Lord of Gondor began pacing around the room, bored with having nothing to do. His boots clunked loudly against the stone floor. Boromir paused when his footstep thudded hollowly on one of the stone blocks. Curiosity getting the better of him, he knelt next to the block and felt along the edges. Sure enough, unlike the other blocks, this one could be pulled up. Most likely it was a hiding place for someone's personal things.

            Although he knew quite well that he should leave everything alone, Boromir did not like being bored, even for only a few minutes, so he pulled the stone up to reveal a small hole. At first he thought nothing was there, but then he saw a small stack of books, more precisely, journals. He skimmed through the first few, learning that, apparently, the author was a foster son of Lord Elrond. He decided to read the oldest first. It was small and bound with leather. On the front cover, in elvish letters, was burned the name Tirpalandil. //That must be the name of the owner// realized Boromir. Judging by the handwriting, the writer must have been young. //But talented// he thought as he looked at one of the many drawings in the book. The picture was of a lone fawn, and while drawn somewhat crudely, Boromir could still tell that the little deer looked afraid and lonely. He smiled, but it quickly left his face as he started reading the journal entries.

***I am alone. Uncle is gone. My father hates me, my brother does not care. Lord Elrond is kind, but I do not deserve his compassion. I don't deserve anything. Why do they not understand? I am worthless to everyone. I have heard people say that children have no sadness, but I am nearly ten years old and my heart is in shreds. Father made sure of that. ***

            Boromir sat in shock. Ten years old? It seemed impossible that so young a child would feel that way. //The poor lad. I wish I could have done something to help him.// He turned to another drawing. A shadowed man held a dagger aloft, blood dripping on from the blade. Boromir's stomach twisted at the sight of a small boy in the picture holding his hand to a bleeding cheek. Spots of salt dotted the page, dried tears the artist had shed while drawing. Next to the figures was scribbled more words.

***Why Father? Why do you hate me? Why did you try to kill me? Would you have been sad if Uncle hadn't stopped you?***

            His father had tried to kill him? //Who would do such a thing? What kind of monster would try to kill his own child?// The pictures continued. A sketch of a waterfall, the clouds dark and ominous, with lightning streaking through the sky. A picture of Lord Elrond holding his arms out to embrace a small boy, but a dark wall separated the two. Pages of drawings filled with hopelessness, each accompanied by writings that spoke the same. Stunned, Boromir read every entry, looked at every picture, yet one drawing stopped him. The same boy, who Boromir figured was the author, reached his hands out to another figure, one that hadn't been in the sketches before. The boy pleaded for something, perhaps understanding, perhaps love, but the figure turned away, ignoring the boy. But that was not what froze Boromir. It was the words that were written on the back of the drawing.

***He hates me, I know he does. Every night I dream the same. I ask for his help and he turns me away, following our father instead. Why, brother? You said you were my best friend, Boromir, you said you loved me! Why did you lie? Why did you pretend to care when Father yelled at me? Will you still hate me when you are Steward? Will I never be able to go home to Minas Tirith again? Why, Boromir, why do you turn me away? Why do you hate me?***

            Boromir's blood ran cold, his hands shook. //No! No, it can't be!// He franticly looked back through all the sketches. His eyes saw the details he had missed before. The Steward's coat of arms on the abusive father. The horn of Gondor on the belt of the boy's brother. The horn, the symbol of his succession to the Stewardship of Gondor. Even the handwriting, he now recognized as his brother's. This boy, this Tirpalandil, was Faramir. His brother. Boromir stumbled over to the chamber pot before his stomach heaved and he vomited. His brother, his _brother_! His brother was the one who was hurt, the one whose father nearly killed him. Boromir's stomach retched again as he comprehended that Denethor had been the monster who almost killed his own son. The pieces of the puzzle clicked in Boromir's mind. That was why Imrahil had taken Faramir away. That was why, during his visit to Dol Amroth, Faramir hadn't smiled, hadn't spoken. 

            He stumbled back to the journal. Boromir's head spun, mentally reviewing everything he had read. Faramir's hopelessness, his despair. Boromir's heart wrenched as he remembered the last entry. //He thought I hated him! Valar, he thought I didn't care! Years. This happened for years and I never realized it! How could I have been so blind, so stupid? He needed me and I failed him. I'm always failing him! He could have died! A child, he was just a small child and he had to go through all of that!// Tears streamed down Boromir's face. //It's all my fault! I should have stopped it, should have realized it. That strange person told me and I didn't listen! I should have listened, I should have known. Faramir, Faramir, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Valar, I am so sorry.// Boromir let out a sob, before trying to compose himself, to think straight. As he splashed water from a basin on his face, he knew that there was one person who could tell him what had happened, the full story. Drying his face, Boromir left to find Lord Elrond.

            The elf was alone in his private library. When Boromir entered, Elrond began protesting, until he saw the Man's expression. "Lord Boromir, what is wrong?" Then he saw the book clutched in Boromir's shaking hand. "You have found out what happened to your brother." Boromir sank into a chair. Elrond closed the door and sat beside him. He laid a hand on the Man's shoulder.

            The touch broke Boromir's control. "I never knew! Everything that happened, all he went through, I never knew about it! I didn't know that Father nearly. . . nearly. . . oh Valar, Faramir almost died and I never knew!" He looked up at Elrond. "He was here. He lived here for all those years, when I thought he was with Uncle, or traveling with friends. You took care of him." Elrond nodded, still not saying anything. "Please," Boromir pleaded. "Please tell me what happened." And Elrond did, telling Boromir everything he knew. The Man sat silently as the elf lord spoke, his eyes betraying the shock and horror at how Denethor had treated Faramir.                      

            After Elrond finished, a silence reigned before Boromir spoke. "How could this have happened? Why did I not see what was going on? I don't blame Faramir for hating me. . . "

            "No." Boromir looked up at Elrond's firm denial. "Faramir did _not_ hate you. Nor did he truly blame you for what your father did to him. I think that he knew in his heart that you loved him, even when his dreams told him otherwise."

            "He said in this journal that he thought I hated him."

            "If you read on, read his other journals, you would see that he shows remorse for those comments. Do not underestimate your brother's far-sight. Even when he thought you had betrayed him, he knew that it was not so." Boromir flinched at the word 'betrayed' but heard the truth in what Lord Elrond said. Faramir did not blame him. But that would not stop him from blaming himself. 

            Boromir spoke with Elrond for nearly an hour before leaving the library. He walked back to his room, to Faramir's room. Opening the journal to where he had left off, Boromir began reading. He read Faramir's whole life, the years he never knew about. Boromir's heart clenched as he read about Faramir's foster brothers, Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel. True to his word, Faramir had said nothing about Estel being the heir of Isildur, even in his journals, but still Boromir felt a twinge of jealousy over the obvious respect and admiration his brother had for the Man. For seven years the elves had been Faramir's family, the ones who had protected and loved him. Boromir clenched his fists as he finished the last book. //I should have been the one taking care of him! That was my job, and I failed. My failure nearly cost him his life.// Boromir set his mouth in a firm line. //I will not fail him again. I will do everything in my power to protect Faramir and Minas Tirith.// 

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Hope you liked it! While you wait for the next update you can read my new story/song 'Frosty the Ringwraith'. Please review!


	20. Chapter 20

Hi! I haven't given anyone a lot of time to review the last chapter, but I want to try and post a lot before Christmas. I have actually finished the story, I'm just giving it to you in pieces. I worked for a long time to finish quickly so that I could write Eowyn's part without being tainted by her attitude in Two Towers. Just from the trailers she seems like a total spoiled brat, and I wanted to like her at least a little when I wrote her. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

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            Estel sat quietly in the room that held the Shards of Narsil, his ancestor's sword. Though he held a book open, he hadn't turned a page, so occupied was he with his thoughts. Thoughts about the Ring, the Hobbits, thoughts about Arwen. His beloved Arwen, immortal but doomed to love a mortal man. _He _doomed her. Estel's thoughts were interrupted when Boromir entered the room. The Ranger watched this new arrival, very clearly a Man of Gondor. Boromir felt his stare and turned. "You are no elf!" he couldn't help but exclaim.

            Estel did not feel like explaining the whole foster son of Lord Elrond position, so he simply said, "The Men of the South are welcome here."

            Boromir felt uncomfortable with this man's gaze. It reminded him of Elrond's piercing eyes. "Who are you?"

            "I am a friend of Gandalf the Grey's" Gandalf? Who... oh Mithrandir! The old wizard had come to Gondor the year before to search Minas Tirith's library. Though he himself had not been there, Faramir had and had told Boromir, before he left for Imladris, that Mithrandir had been searching for references to Isildur's Bane. Perhaps that was why this Man was here.

            "Then we are here on common purpose... friend." Estel just stared at him and Boromir turned away, uneasy. That was when he noticed a statue holding up a broken sword. Boromir stepped over to it and picked up the hilt-piece.

            "The Shards of Narsil! The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's Hand." A symbol of the Kings of Gondor. The birthright of the line of Isildur, the line who could challenge the      rule of the Stewards. The broken sword mentioned in his dream. Again Boromir felt the strange man's gaze. "But no more than a broken heirloom." As he slammed the blade on the pedestal it fell and clattered to the floor. Boromir paused where he was walking for a moment, but continued on, not wanting to stay in the same room as that Man. 

            While he walked through the halls, he berated himself for his rudeness. //Just because someone makes me feel unsettled, is no reason for just walking out without even a formal farewell. I have learned that since I was a child.// Boromir turned and strode back to the room. //Perhaps he knows something of this council tomorrow.// He saw the Man leave the room and was about to call out when a beautiful elf woman followed the stranger. 

The elf gently laid her hand on the Man's arm. "Come, walk with me Estel." Boromir froze in his tracks. Estel! Suddenly he connected the Man with Faramir's Ranger foster brother, the one in love with the elf Arwen. Boromir glared at the retreating couple. //Well, Ranger, we finally meet, though you do not know it. And I would have it stay that way. I will not give you the chance to steal Faramir's love. _I_ am his brother, and you will not take my place.//

            The council was held the next morning, the sun smiling upon the representatives of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth. Elves from Mirkwood and the Grey Havens, dwarves from Erebor, Men from Laketown as well as Boromir, the lone representative of Gondor, and Gandalf the Grey. The small man seated next to the wizard startled Boromir. He seemed to be a child, yet the Man of Gondor felt that it was not so. Lord Elrond stood next to a stone pedestal and welcomed all guests. After his ever so optimistic speech, (A/N: I am being *really* sarcastic here.) Elrond told the small man, whose name was Frodo Baggins, to place the Ring on the pedestal. Boromir leaned forward as he realized that this was the Ring that was Isildur's Bane. "So it is true." 

            The members of the council looked at Boromir as he stood to speak. "In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark, but in the west a pale light lingered. Voices cried out 'Doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found.'" Entranced by the lure of the Ring, Boromir reached out to touch it. "Isildur's Bane." Seconds before his hand could touch the Ring, Elrond stood, calling his name in warning. Suddenly Gandalf stood, yelling out in the Black Speech of Mordor:

***Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul*** Lord Elrond held his head as if in pain, the other elves not faring well either. The ground shook and the sky grew dark as ash. Boromir felt himself rocked back into his chair.

***Ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!*** The earth quieted as everyone on the council breathed a sigh of relief. Lord Elrond glared at the wizard. "Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris!"

            "I do not ask for pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil!" Thinking he had made his point, Gandalf turned to be seated. But Boromir, having felt the Ring's power, would not let the subject rest.

            Standing up again, the Man of Gondor disagreed with the wise Istar. "It is a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe!" Boromir pointed accusingly at the elves, dwarves, and even the Laketown men. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

            "You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master." Boromir looked at Estel. His antipathy towards the man leaked out in his voice.

            "And what, would a Ranger know of these matters?" Estel did not answer, surprised at the anger coming from the Man who had at least tried to be friendly towards him the night before. Suddenly, an elf jumped to his feet behind Boromir.

            "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." Boromir's eyes widened. After he had returned home, Faramir spent many days in the library of Minas Tirith in his spare time, though he would not say for what. One day, Boromir had crept into the library to see what his brother seemed so interested in. Leafing through the ancient papers, he read about the line of Kings through Isildur, and of the Dunedain of the North. There was little to be found on either subject, but Boromir was able to figure out that the Chieftains of the Dunedain were descended from Isildur. The last name on the list was Arathorn son of Arador. If Estel was the son of Arathorn than that meant... 

            "Aragorn? _This_ is Isildur's heir?"

            "And Heir to the throne of Gondor."  
            Aragorn did not seem too pleased that the elf had spoken. ^Sit down, Legolas.^ The elf, Legolas, obeyed, though reluctantly. Boromir also sat down, though not before glaring at Aragorn and proclaiming that Gondor did not need a king. Elrond declared that the Ring must be destroyed, and Boromir shook his head in frustration. A dwarf, Gimli, tried to destroy the Ring with his axe and only managed to get thrown backwards. 

            Elrond frowned at the dwarf. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here posses. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this." The silence was deafening. Boromir couldn't believe that there was anyway to walk into Mordor without being killed, and said so. The same blasted elf that had defended Aragorn jumped up again and started yelling at Boromir, reiterating what Elrond had said. Then Gimli rose, shouting at Legolas, never even paying attention to Boromir's arguments. Soon the whole council began arguing. Boromir's blood heated in anger as Gandalf began bellowing at him for being foolish enough to want to risk using the Ring. 

            Everyone quieted down, though, when Frodo announced that he would take the Ring to Mordor. Boromir couldn't believe it. That small, helpless _child_, given Sauron's greatest weapon? Yet no one objected, and the Man of Gondor did not feel like quarreling anymore. First Gandalf promised to help the hobbit, then Aragorn, which made Boromir narrow his eyes in anger. The elf, Legolas, also agreed to go, and Gimli soon after. Boromir was certain that the dwarf had volunteered only to aggravate the elf. Sighing, Boromir too offered his services, knowing that he had to return to Gondor anyway. To everyone's surprise, three more hobbits, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, rushed into the council area and insisted on being taken along. Before the entire council decided that they wanted to go, Elrond announced the Fellowship of the Ring.

 Boromir's eyes traveled to each of his companions. Mithrandir, the wizard Denethor distrusted and Faramir respected. Gimli, the dwarf, short, but with a toughness that showed he could fight. Legolas, the elf, a fair being, but with fierce eyes. Four hobbits, small, the most likely to be hurt in the event of an attack. //They will need to be taken care of.// And last, Aragorn, Ranger and King in exile. Boromir seethed at the man's smugness and royal air. Not only would he take his brother's admiration, but also the rule of Boromir's beloved country! How could this man rule Gondor, when he didn't even care enough about it to help in its time of need. Aragorn wanted to destroy the one hope Gondor had to survive! //I will not let Gondor fall because of one man's weakness. Somehow, I will find a way to save my country. . . and my brother.//

~*~

            Nearly two months had passed since the Fellowship had left Rivendell. Mithrandir had fallen with the Balrog. The Company stayed with the elves in Lothlorien for nearly half the journey, much to Boromir's discomfort, for he felt out of place among the immortals. //How Faramir spent seven years living with them is beyond my comprehension.// thought Boromir as the Fellowship floated down the Anduin. He frowned. //He spent seven years with them because he feared for his life if he came home. The elves cared for him when he thought his family did not.// 

            "Boromir is anything wrong?" The Man jolted out of his thoughts.

            "Nothing is wrong, Pippin. Why do you ask?"

            "Well, you've quit rowing." Boromir looked down and realized that though his hands were gripping the oar, he wasn't paddling.

            "Forgive me, Little Ones, my thoughts have wandered." Pippin exchanged glances with Merry as Boromir began rowing again. Both hobbits hoped that the Man, who had become good friends with them, was not thinking about the Ring. They knew they had to protect Frodo, but they did not want to fight their friend. Neither considered the possibility that Boromir's thoughts were not on the Ring, but on his brother, and the troubles of the past.

            It was the fifth night the Fellowship spent on the shores of the Anduin. Boromir kept watch while all the others slept. Well, almost all of the others. Next to him 'slept' Samwise Gamgee. The hobbit stubbornly protected his master and did not feel comfortable having Boromir being the only one awake. The Man turned slightly to him. "Why are you still up? You should get sleep while you have the chance."

            Sam was embarrassed at having been noticed. "I'll sleep when I'm comfy, thank you very much."

            There was a pause. "You do not trust me."

            "I don't like the way you've been looking at Mr. Frodo, not at all."

            "I will not hurt him." The hobbit glared at him skeptically. Sam was sitting up by now. Boromir laughed. "You certainly are a suspicious fellow." His face grew solemn. "But very loyal. Frodo is lucky to have you." Sam tried not to look pleased at the comment. After all, he did not trust this Man. "I have a favor to ask of you."

            The hobbit looked at him warily. "What is it?"

            "If I do not survive this war... " 

            "Now none of that talking. We're all going to make it."

            Boromir smiled sadly at the halfling's optimism. "Perhaps, but as a warrior I must think of those things. If I don't survive, I want you to give this to my brother, Faramir." He handed Sam a sealed letter. The hobbit reluctantly took it.

            "Why ask me to do it? Why not Strider or one of the other Big People?"

            "Because I know that even if you do not like me, I can trust you."

            Sam put the letter in his pack. "Alright, I'll give it to him."

            "Thank you." The hobbit settled back into his bedroll to try and sleep. "Sam?"

            "Yah?"

            "Tell Faramir... " he paused. "Tell him that I'm sorry. Sorry for everything." Sam was curious now, but felt it wasn't his place to inquire.

            "I will. Good night."

            "Sleep well." 

            Boromir smiled as he heard a mumbled, "Yah, right." Sighing, he stared up at the stars. Faramir loved the stars. //Another thing he must have learned from the elves. Because of me and my blindness.// "I'm sorry." He wiped a tear away, but not before Sam saw it glistening on his cheek. 

~*~

Boromir tried to focus his wavering eyes on the sharp, black arrow pointed at him. He felt his body failing, three orc arrows already insuring his fate. Suddenly a blurry figure knocked the orc, and the arrow, away from Boromir. It was Aragorn. As the Ranger fought the orc, Boromir fell to the ground. Fire shot through his body. Realizations of failure caused the Man to groan. //I failed. I failed Frodo. I failed Merry and Pippin. I failed Father, Gondor. I failed Faramir.// As he thought of each person, their faces wavered before his eyes, each one blaming him. Everyone except Faramir. Faramir just smiled in understanding. Though Boromir heard no words, he felt his brother's forgiveness. Faramir forgave him. //How can he? After what I have done?// 

"Boromir!" Aragorn stumbled to the Lord of Gondor's side. Boromir focused on the Ranger who could be King.

"They took the Little Ones!"

"Stay still."

Boromir shook his head slightly. "Frodo, where's Frodo?"

Aragorn looked at him sadly. "I let Frodo go." Boromir felt a wave of relief. Frodo was safe, the quest could go on.

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him." No pride left, Boromir confessed his horrible deed.

"The Ring is beyond our reach now."

"Forgive me, I did not see." //I did not see how it nearly turned me into my father. I could have killed Frodo, just like Father could have killed Faramir.// "I have failed you all."

"No, Boromir! You fought bravely. You have kept your honor." Honor? Boromir would have smiled bitterly had he the energy. //I have no honor. I failed.// Aragorn began pulling out an arrow, but Boromir stopped him. "Leave it. It is over. The world of Men will fall and all will come to darkness," It was already darkening as Aragorn seemed to move farther away. "and my city to ruin."

Aragorn looked on helplessly. A man, someone he would even call a friend, was dying and the healer in him raged at his inability to release him from death's grip. Death, the Doom of Man. "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall. Nor our people fail." 

Boromir smiled despite the pain. Aragorn was beginning to accept his destiny. Perhaps, just perhaps, hope was left. Yes Estel, hope. Boromir vaguely wondered why he hadn't thought of that before. "Our people. _Our people._" He felt for his sword, which Aragorn placed in his hand. If Aragorn accepted being King, then Boromir accepted being the King's servant. "I would have followed you my brother," //For you are brother to my brother.// "My captain." //Had I listened to you, perhaps the little ones would be safe.// "My King." //Protect my people. Protect Faramir.// As Aragorn faded into darkness, Boromir felt himself falling away. A slight breeze blew by, and with it flew the spirit of Boromir Denethor's son, heir to the Stewardship, beloved of his people. 

"Be at peace, son of Gondor."  
  


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I admit. I like Boromir, no matter how he acted towards Frodo. I felt he was just desperate to save his people after years of continuous war. I always feel sad when I see the end of the movie. Sean Bean does a great job. I hope Faramir is played just as good. By the way, he may have died, but we haven't seen the last of Boromir.


	21. Chapter 21

Hey we're back to Faramir's view! This is getting more and more into the books, so I have taken some of Tolkien's lines word for word, and some I have changed to make them fit better. 

I saw the TWO TOWERS!!!!!! I went opening day. It was so totally awesome!!!!!!

Reviewer Responses

Smeagol= I loved the TT! Gollum was so kool!! I loved his nice side, it was so sweet! Yes I was very sad when Haldir died, especially since he wasn't even supposed to be there. All I can say is if they introduce the twins in ROTK and kill one or both I'm gonna have a fit!

Ithilwen= I hope I do the book justice with the next chapters. It was really hard writing within the confines of Tolkien's words.

Niakelt-luna-moon= I am incredibly sorry for calling Eowyn a spoiled brat. I was basing my opinion on the trailers which didn't do the movie justice. In the movie, I thought Eowyn wasn't as bad as I thought. She was pretty cool. Please forgive me!

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            "Sir, look!" Faramir turned to where one of his men, Mablung, was pointing. He frowned as he saw smoke rising above the trees. Turning to his men, Faramir motioned for them to follow him. They crept to where the smoke came from. As Mablung and Damrod talked, two small figures jumped up, raising little swords at the Ithilien Rangers. The four Rangers stared, astonished at the creatures in front of them. "What are these?" wondered Mablung aloud.

            "Not Orcs," said Jirnlen, releasing his sword. 

            "Elves?" asked Damrod, skeptically. //Elves?// thought Faramir laughingly. //Hardly.//

            "No, not elves." Faramir declared. "Elves do not walk in Ithilien in these days. And Elves are fair to look upon." There was a pause before he realized that his words could be taken to mean that he had seen elves before. "or so it is said."

            "Meaning we're not, I take you," protested one of the little men. "Thank you kindly. And when you've finished discussing us, perhaps you'll, say who you are, and why you can't let two tired travelers rest." Faramir laughed, though grimly. 

            "I am Faramir, Captain of Gondor, but there are no travelers in this land, only servants of the Dark Tower, or of the White." The small men began attesting that they were just travelers, nothing more. Faramir believed that they weren't lying about not being servants of Sauron, but they certainly weren't simple journeyers. He especially didn't like their reaction to his question about their third companion, who had disappeared. The little men seemed to be hiding something from him.

            "I do not know where he is," said the other small man. "He is only a chance companion, and I am not answerable for him. If you come to him, please spare him and send him to us. He is under my care. As for us, we are Hobbits of the Shire. Frodo son of Drogo is my name, and with me is Samwise son of Hamfast, a worthy hobbit in my service. We have come a long ways, out of Imladris." //Rivendell! These must be the Halflings of my dream. Yet they are so small, why would Ada let them come all the way here?// "Seven companions we had: one we lost at Moria, the others we left at Parth Galen above Rauros: two of my kin, a Dwarf, an Elf, and two Men. The men were Aragorn," //Aragorn! There is definitely something going on here, more than I suspected. And why would he give his true name to the keeping of these hobbits? Will he come to take the throne of Kings?// "and Boromir, who said that he came out of Minas Tirith, a city in the South."

            "Boromir!" //Boromir! So he did make it to Rivendell. // "Boromir son of the Lord Denethor? You came with him? That is news indeed, if it be true" //Which it is, they do not lie in this.// "Know, little strangers, that Boromir son of Denethor was High Warden of the White Tower, and our Captain-General: sorely do we miss him." //Very sorely. My brother, why did you have to go? Why did I not listen to my feelings and find a way to go in your place?// "Who are you then, and what had you to do with him?"

            "Do you know the words that Boromir brought to Rivendell?" the one called Frodo asked. He recited the first two lines, much to Faramir's astonishment. He had thought that Boromir would only tell Elrond, but perhaps he was mistaken in that.

            "Yes, I know them. It is some token that you tell the truth, since you also know them."

            "Well, Aragorn is the bearer of the Sword that was Broken and we are the Halflings that the rhyme spoke of." Of course Faramir already knew of Aragorn and had quickly figured out about the Halflings.

            "That I see, or I see it might be so. And what is Isildur's Bane?" That was one question that Faramir especially wanted to know. In his heart, he felt that Isildur's Bane was Boromir's as well. Frodo, though, did not want to tell him. Faramir still wondered about that, as well as what the Hobbits were doing here in the East. Yet he did not have time to ask, for the Haradrim, or Southrons as they were called by some, were coming up the road, and Faramir had to prepare his men for battle. Leaving Mablung and Damrod to guard the hobbits, he and Jirnlen headed back to the other Rangers.

~*~

            "The Southrons will reach here around noon." Faramir had gathered his men together to form a plan. "We shall hide near the trees at this pass." He pointed to the diagram spread out on the ground. "As always, we use secrecy. Be on alert, they may have Mumakil with them." A collective shudder ran through the men. Mumakil, the fierce creatures used by the Southrons, were feared greatly for their strength and the great tusks that could skewer men. "May Eru and the Valar be with us."

            Faramir stared grimly south down the ancient road. From his hiding spot behind a great tree, he watched carefully for any sign of the enemy. A flash from a treetop caught his eye. One of his men had spotted the enemy coming. Faramir signaled those nearby to be on ready. The dark Southrons marched past. At Faramir's signal, horns were blown and the Rangers swiftly attacked. 

            From his position, Faramir let loose a barrage of arrows, taking down many Southrons before they could react. He pushed aside his feelings of guilt. This was no time for moral issues. If he didn't kill these men, they would kill his. And if his men died, the road would be open for the Southrons to pillage and murder innocent victims, women and children. Soon, his arrows were spent and he drew his sword. Unlike many men, Faramir had not named it. He saw the sword as a tool for killing, not as some intelligent being. It was a light sword, made of mithril, very rare. Elrond had given it to him twenty years earlier, before he left Rivendell to return to Gondor. The elven words *osta en'coia*, defender of life, was inscribed in its hilt, a reminder to Faramir to try to protect life, rather then take it.

            A scarlet-clad Southron rushed at Faramir, his curved sword sweeping towards the Captain's head. Faramir ducked and twisted away, thrusting his own sword into the enemy's back. Pulling it loose, he turned to face another Southron, then another. Soon Faramir was lost in the battle, fighting to stay alive. A cry to his left alerted him that one of his men was in trouble. Three Southrons had teamed up against one Ranger, a young man of considerable skill. But skill would not help him against three battle-hardened Haradrim. Faramir fought his way over to the other Ranger. With a cry, he hit the first in the side, catching the swarthy man by surprise. Seeing this new danger, the other Southrons turned away from the young Ranger to face Faramir. This was a fatal mistake, for the young man quickly dispatched one, while Faramir took care of the other.

            Suddenly a bellowing trumpet froze many men on the battleground. A Mumak ran free, his rider having lost control. It threw its bloodstained tusks in the air, and trumpeted loudly through its monstrous snout. Faramir stared in wonder at the beast, clad in scarlet and gold. The battle resumed quickly, the Mumak rampaging against Southron and Ranger alike. Most were able to get out of its way, a few were not so lucky, crushed beneath the giant feet. As Faramir slew another Southron, he looked up to find the Mumak thundering towards Mirdan, one of his good friends. Without thinking, Faramir pushed the unsuspecting Ranger aside, trying to roll away from the beast's path at the same time. The Mumak had other ideas. As Faramir lay on his back, the creature charged him. Rolling to get away from its crushing feet, Faramir found himself under the great beast. He began a deadly dance, twisting this way and that, to avoid being mangled by the angry Mumak. Faramir thrust his sword into one of the giant tree-like legs, bringing forth a bellow from the creature. Twisting quickly as he pulled his sword out, he was able to roll away from the dangerous animal.

            Faramir barely had time to catch his breath before another Southron attacked him. He managed to get on his feet and returned each attack blow for blow. The enemy soldier fought skillfully and was harder to kill than the other's Faramir had faced. As the Southron brought his sword around, Faramir jumped back and shoved his sword into the man's stomach. Turning from the dying soldier and preparing himself for another attack, Faramir realized that the battle was over. The remaining Southrons were fleeing, some of his Rangers in pursuit. His lieutenants, battered and bloodied, came up to him.

            "We have beaten them back, Captain! What would you have us do?"

            Still trying to catch his breath, Faramir answered. "Set scouts on this road. Watch for orcs and others of the Haradrim. First we gather the captives, then we head to Henneth Annun."

            When he returned to the hobbit's camp, Mablung and Damrod greeted him. One of the halflings, Sam, was still asleep, but Frodo had woken at the Rangers' return. Faramir took the time to begin questioning Frodo on the hobbits' journey, and the Fellowship, particularly Boromir's part in it. There was a murmur of astonishment that passed through the Rangers of Ithilien at the mention that Aragorn was Isildur's Heir, though Faramir himself already knew. He had to pretend to disbelieve Frodo, if only for appearance's sake. Then came a harder question, at least for Faramir. "Were you a friend of Boromir's?" The look in Frodo's eyes caused Faramir's farsighted ones to harden. Something had happened between the hobbit and Boromir that Frodo did not remember as pleasant.

            "Boromir was a valiant member of our Company. Yes, I was his friend, for my part."

            "Then you would grieve to learn that Boromir is dead." The hobbit looked shocked.

            "Dead? How did he die?"

            "I was hoping that you would know that, you being his companion."

            "But he was alive and strong when we parted. And he lives still for all that I know. Though surely there are many perils in the world."

            "Many indeed, and treachery not the least." Yet Faramir had a nagging feeling that the treachery was not on the part of this hobbit, and he dreaded hearing on whose part it was.

            Suddenly, the other hobbit stood up angrily. Sam had obviously been listening to Faramir and Frodo's conversation and was unhappy at what Faramir was implying of his master.  

            "See here, Captain!" Faramir managed to hold back his laughter at this small halfling standing with his hands on his hips and talking to him like a schoolmaster to a pupil. "What are you driving at? Let's come to the point before all the orcs of Mordor come down on us! If you think my master murdered Boromir and then ran away, you've got no sense; but say it and have done! And then let us know what you mean to do about it. But it's a pity that folk that talk about fighting the Enemy can't let others do their bit in their own way without interfering. Sauron would be mighty please, if he could see you now. Think he'd got a new friend, he would."

            "Patience, I do not need any to teach me of our peril. Even so, I spare a brief time, in order to judge justly in a hard matter. Were I as hasty as you, I might have slain you long ago. For I am commanded to execute all whom I find in this land without the leave of the lord of Gondor. But I do not kill man or beast needlessly and not gladly even when it is needed. Neither do I talk in vain. So be comforted. Sit by your master and be silent!" Sam obeyed, surprised by Faramir's words. "You asked how I know of Boromir's death. Night oft brings news to near kindred, it is said. Boromir was my brother." Neither Frodo nor Sam could hide their surprise. But now that he thought of it, Frodo did see the family resemblance. Yet, somehow, he felt that this Faramir was very different from his brother. Sadder, perhaps. 

            Faramir asked them about the Horn of Gondor, which they did remember. He told them of the Horn's tradition, that the eldest son of the Steward wore it and when blown within Gondor, help was sure to come. "Eleven days ago, I heard the sound of Boromir's horn. Both my father and I felt a foreboding since we had not heard from Boromir since he left for Imladris. Three days later, I sat that night by the shores of the Anduin under a pale moon. I was on watch for the enemy, but what I saw wasn't an orc. A small, grey boat floated down the river, no one steering or rowing it. I walked out to it, drawn by a glow that surrounded it. As it floated by, I noticed that it sank low from being nearly full of water. And in that water lay Boromir, my brother, dead. His sword was broken and I saw many wounds from arrows. Yet his horn was not with him, though he had a new belt of golden leaves. The boat carried him down the river, to the Sea. That was the last I saw of Boromir."

            Frodo looked at him sadly. "Yes that was Boromir. The golden belt was given to him by the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien. This brooch is of the same workmanship." He showed Faramir the green and silver leaf that fastened his cloak.

            "It is work of the same craft. You passed through the Land of Lorien? Laurelindorinan was its name of old, but none have gone there in recent times." They talked more of Lorien and then Faramir told the hobbits about how they had found the Horn of Gondor in the river, broken in two.

            Faramir remembered vividly of taking the Horn to Denethor. The sadness on the Steward's face, he would long remember. But what stayed with him the most was the look in Denethor's eyes. A look that told Faramir that his father wished that he had gone in Boromir's place. And died.

~*~

            As they walked to Henneth Annun, Faramir questioned Frodo more about Isildur's Bane. He was further grieved to hear of Mithrandir's fall in Moria. The wizard had been Faramir's friend. He had first met Mithrandir as a small child, and again in Rivendell. The Istar had come a few times to look in Minas Tirith's library, but always would take time to talk to Faramir. 

            As they neared the great waterfall, the hobbits were blindfolded. He led them into the refuge, Henneth Annun, the Window of the Sun and removed their blindfolds. After Frodo and Sam had rested, they all sat down to eat. Afterwards, Faramir sat the hobbits away from the other men and they talked about the Quest, about Gondor, and finally about Lorien. There Sam made the grave mistake of mentioning the 'Enemy's Ring'. At once, Faramir realized that Isildur's Bane was the One Ring of Sauron, and that Boromir had tried to take it. He thought of his father. //Boromir tried to take it because that is what father would want. If I would return with the Ring, perhaps he would think more highly of me.// Faramir shook that thought from his head. //Nay, he would not. Not even the Ring would make him like me. And I would not give Denethor such a corrupting gift.// He reassured the frightened hobbits that he would not try to take the Ring, much to their relief. After talking a bit more, Frodo became weary and fell quickly asleep. Sam decided to rest to, but not before talking to Faramir.

            "Good night, Captain, my lord. You took the chance sir."

            "Did I so?"

            "Yes, sir and showed your quality: the very highest." Faramir smiled.

            "You are a pert servant, Master Samwise. But no, the praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards. Yet there was nothing in this to praise. I had no lure or desire to do other than I have done." 

            "Ah, well, sir, you said my master had an elvish air, and that was good and true. But I can say this: You have an air too, sir, that reminds me of... of... well Gandalf, of wizards."

            "Maybe. Perhaps you discern from far away the air of Numenor. Good night."

            "Good night sir." Faramir turned to leave them, but then Sam sat straight up. "Captain, sir! Why I near forgot!" The hobbit began digging through one of his bags.

            "Forgot what, Master Samwise?"

            "This!" Sam held out a letter, crumbled around the edges, but with the seal holding. "It's from your brother, sir. He gave it to me to give to you in case anything happened to him. I can't believe I forgot, he seemed so sad at the time. Sorrowful too, like he knew what was going to happen." Faramir took the letter, smiling sadly at his brother's seal.

            "Thank you Samwise."

            "You're welcome, sir. Good night." Faramir walked back to his private alcove, away from his men, and carefully opened the letter.

***Dearest brother,

            If you are reading this, then I fear that we will not meet again. I feel a sense of foreboding, and I would not die without you knowing that I love you, little brother. I want you to know this, and that I am sorry. 

            I am sorry for so many things. I am sorry for my weakness, for my blindness. How blind I was! Only in the elf city did I find out the sorrows you went through. I stumbled across your journals and drawings, and found out to my horror, how father treated you, how you suffered. You cannot know how sorry I am that I didn't help you. It is all my fault, I should have known, I should have protected you! 

Instead you nearly died. I thank the Valar for Uncle Imrahil. How could I not have seen your pain in Dol Amroth? How could I not realize the true reason you didn't come home? Lord Elrond told me that you stayed in Rivendell for seven years, as his son. I can tell from the look in his eyes that he loves you like a father should. Like our father should. How can you still love Denethor, after what he did? I know you do, and that you want his love. Why? He does not deserve your love. Nor do I. Lord Elrond said that you do not hate me, but I cannot believe him, after what I did, what I *didn't* do. I do not ask you to love me, Faramir, for I can see how that is impossible. But I ask that you forgive me. Please forgive me Faramir! I am sorry.

                                                With all love,

                                                Boromir ***

            Tears fell from Faramir's eyes. //He thought I hated him? How, he is my brother! I never hated him for what happened! He never knew, because I kept it from him. I never wanted him to know.// His head in his hands, Faramir quietly sobbed, thinking of his beloved brother, dying while believing he hated him.  

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I know when Boromir talked with Lord Elrond he knew that Faramir had forgiven him, but remember, he wrote this letter when he was under the influence of the Ring. The Ring used his guilt about what happened to break Boromir's will, making him easier to ensnare. In the end, though, Boromir felt that Faramir truly forgave him. But that was after the letter was sent.


	22. Chapter 22

Hey lucky you, you get two chapters in one night! Sorry for not updating a lot, but with Christmas coming I haven't had a lot of time.

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            Faramir, Mablung, Damrod, and Jirnlen rode quickly toward Minas Tirith. Faramir had sent the other Rangers to Osgiliath, but he knew that he must hurry to the White City to speak with the Steward. After Frodo and Sam, and their guide Gollum, had left, Faramir felt in his soul that haste was needed. 

            As they neared the City, a shrill cry spread fear through the four men. Looking upward, Faramir shuddered at the sight of Black Riders atop great, dark birds. The same chill felt months ago in Osgiliath at the sight of the Dark Horsemen filled him and he urged his horse into a gallop, the others following. Jirnlen let out a call from his horn, announcing to the city that Faramir had come and was in need of help. Yet as they rode through the Pelennor, no man issued forth from the Gate, all were terrified of the Black Riders. Horror filled Faramir as the Rider screeched again and his three companions were thrown from their frightened steeds. Overcoming his own fear, he rode back to his men, grabbing at the loose horses, trying to calm them while keeping his own horse in line. Mablung tried desperately to remount his stallion, failing as the horse continued to buck. Jirnlen and Damrod were having trouble too. Faramir felt helpless as the Black Riders continued to harass them. Suddenly a flash of white came from the North, a man in white on a beautiful white horse. The Black Riders swerved away from the radiant light the man put forth.

            Faramir rode up to the man, staring in shock as he realized that the man was Mithrandir! Yet the Grey Pilgrim he was no longer, for he was robed in white and silver, no longer hunched over like an old man, but straight and powerful. However, Faramir had no time to ask about the change for he needed to get his men into the City. Now that the Black Riders were gone, men issued out of the city to help the grounded men.

            Mithrandir and Faramir rode side by side into Minas Tirith, crowds shouting their names. Faramir vaguely wondered why his name was called along with Mithrandir, he had done nothing. But in his fatigue he could not think well. The hard ride had taxed his strength and as he dismounted, he swayed a little. Suddenly a strange voice called out his name. Faramir turned, and to his surprise he saw a hobbit wearing the White Tree, like a guard of the Tower. "Whence came you? A halfling, and in the livery of the Tower! Whence... ?" 

            Mithrandir didn't let him finish his question. "He came here with me from the land of the Halflings. But let us not tarry here. There is much to say and to do and you are weary. He shall come with us. Indeed he must, for if he does not forget his new duties more easily than I do, he must attend on his lord again within this hour. Come, Pippin, follow us!" //Pippin? Perhaps his is one of the kinsmen Frodo mentioned. But he said there were two didn't he? Where is the other then? And this one in Father's service?// Faramir smiled at the image of this halfling serving his father. //Perhaps Father thought to get information from him. Well, if this one is anything like his kinsman, Father did not find out much.//

            //Even with Boromir gone, I still will not sit on his right hand.// thought Faramir sadly as he sat on Denethor's left side. Soon he reported his doings in Ithilien, of the Battle with the Southrons, of Sauron's movements. Finally Faramir decided it was time to mention Frodo and Sam. "It is strange indeed to see a halfling here in my father's service, for this is not the first that I have seen walking out of northern legends into the Southlands." Mithrandir's hands visibly whitened on his staff. Pippin seemed to want to say something, but Mithrandir's look silenced him. Faramir told of his meeting with the two hobbits and Gollum. Mithrandir seemed truly troubled, especially when Faramir mentioned that they had gone to Cirith Ungol.

            "Cirith Ungol? Morgul Vale? What time did you part with them, Faramir? When would they reach that accursed valley?"

            "I parted with them two days ago. It is fifteen leagues to the vale of the Morgulduin, if they went straight south. Then they would be five leagues westward of the Tower. If they traveled at their fastest, they could not come there before today, and maybe haven't come there yet. I know what you fear, but the darkness is not due to their venture for it began yesterday and all Ithilien was under shadow last night. The Enemy has long planned this assault on us, and at this appointed time. The halflings' journey had nothing to do with it."

            "How far is the place where you parted with them?"

            "Twenty-five leagues as the bird flies, but I could not have come more swiftly. Yesterday we were at Cair Andros, the long island in the River northward which we hold in defense, for the horses are kept on the hither bank. I knew that haste was needed, so I rode with three others that could be horsed to return here. The rest of my company I sent to Osgiliath to strengthen the defense there. I hope that I have not done ill." Faramir looked at his father as he said this.

            Denethor's eyes flashed. "Ill? Why do you ask, for the men were under your command. Do you ask for my judgement on all your deeds? Your demeanor is lowly in my presence yet you have never turned from your own way to heed my counsel. You speak skillfully, yet your eyes rest on Mithrandir as if to ask whether you say too much! Long has he held your respect and trust." //You cannot speak to your elves, so you seek the wisdom of the next best thing. A wizard.// "My son, I am old but not blind. I can see and hear, and little of what you have half said or left unsaid is hidden from me. I know the answer to many riddles. Alas for Boromir!"

            Faramir knew he was on rocky ground. One misstep would cause an ugly outburst. He did not wish for the young hobbit to see the man to whom he had sworn allegiance with his anger unchecked. From experience, it was not a pretty sight. "If what I have done displeases you, Father, then I am sorry. But I truly wish I had heard your counsel before the burden of this judgement was forced on me."

            "Would you have listened to me? You would have done just as you did. I know you well. Ever your desire is to appear kind and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle. Maybe one of the high race can do so, if he sits in power and peace, but in these desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death." 

            "So be it." //I do not care if I die for being a fair and honorable man. I would be as Ada is, not as you are, Father.//

            "So be it! But not only would you die, Faramir, but so would I and all of your people who you are sworn to protect now that Boromir is gone."

            "Do you wish that our places had been exchanged and I had died in his stead?" //Valar, what made me ask that? Don't answer, please don't answer.// 

            "Yes I wish you had, for Boromir was no student of wizards and elves. He would have known the need of our people and not let hope slip through his fingers. He would have brought me a powerful gift." Faramir felt despair rise in him. He knew his father did not like him, yet it still hurt to hear Denethor's words. //He truly wishes me dead.//

            Faramir couldn't take it anymore. Denethor could hate him all he wanted, but he would not let him place the blame of Boromir's death on him. "You need to remember, Father, who it was that let Boromir go to Imladris, instead of me. That time I listened to your counsel. It was you, the Lord of the City, who gave Boromir that errand!"

            "Do not tell me what I already know and regret! The son I love is dead and all I am left with is you!" Denethor and Mithrandir then began arguing, over Boromir and the Ring, but Faramir did not listen. The anger and hatred in his father's voice pierced his heart more than a dagger ever could. Faramir glanced up at the halfling, Pippin. The poor hobbit seemed so confused. Faramir gave him a weak smile, which Pippin returned. The Captain saw the hobbit's bewilderment at Denethor's actions towards his son. //If you only knew, little one. If you only knew the demon in Steward's clothing that appears when I am around. I wish you did not have to find it out. I am sorry that you see this.// 

            Faramir saw Pippin's gaze return to Denethor, and so he tried to pay attention to what his father was saying. "In what time we have left, let all of us who fight the Enemy in their fashion, fight, and perhaps keep hope while they can, and after hope is gone, let them keep the will to die free." The Steward turned to Faramir, unaware of the pain in his son's eyes. "How is the garrison at Osgiliath?"

            "It is not strong, though I have sent the company of Ithilien to strengthen it, as I said before."

            "I do not believe that that is enough. It is there, that the first blow will fall. They need a stouthearted captain there."

            "A good captain is needed everywhere it seems. Alas for my brother, who I too loved!" Faramir stood. "May I have your leave, Father?" His weariness from his journey and from his father's words caused him to sway and lean upon Denethor's chair.

            "I see you are tired. You rode fast and far, and under evil shadows in the air."

            "Please let us not speak of that." Faramir couldn't handle remembering the foul beasts in the state he was in.

            "Then we will not. Go and rest. You will be needed tomorrow."

            Faramir stumbled down the hall. His feet and legs ached from holding him up, his head swam in fatigue. As Faramir pitched forward from weariness, a hand caught and steadied him. "You look like you are about to fall asleep on your feet, nephew."

            He looked up at Prince Imrahil, who he hadn't seen in many years. "It is good to see you again, Uncle."

            "Let me help you to your room."

            Faramir shook his head in protest. "No. Some of my Rangers died in the battle against the Haradrim. I need to tell their families... "

            "Later, Faramir. If you do not get some rest, you are going to collapse." Not having the energy to argue, Faramir leaned on his uncle, who gently led him to his room. "Now rest. Morning will some soon enough, and you will be needed." Bidding Imrahil good night, Faramir shut the door, barely managing to remove his boots and shirt before collapsing on his bed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

            It was close to midnight when Denethor stepped quietly into his son's room. //What made me say those things to him? I should not loose my temper like that, especially in front of Mithrandir. I cannot show that weakness.// Denethor stood at the foot of Faramir's bed, watching his son sleep. Faramir shivered, and for a moment, Denethor saw him as a small child, trembling at the Steward's hurtful words and brutal hand. Almost against his will, Denethor's heart softened. Covering Faramir with a blanket, the Steward stroked his son's hair, barely brushing it. "Good night, my son." Yet just as quickly as his heart had softened, it grew hard again. Denethor recoiled his hand and quickly left the room, not looking back.

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wow, I hadn't said anything when I posted before. Anyway, I've since seen ROTK and I feel that I actually didn't make Denethor as evil as he was there. I thought about rewriting this using the movies but decided not to.


	23. Chapter 23

Hi everyone! I hope everyone had a great Christmas, Hannukah, etc! I have seen TT twice and hope to go again Wednesday or so. *sigh* Legolas is so hot! And he has lines!!! And please don't throw things at me, but I think they did a decent job with Faramir. From writing this, I know how hard it is to write a character that remotely resembles Tolkien's ideas. I still think they should have mentioned Boromir more and how Faramir felt, like seeing a flashback to finding the boat. Oh well, I guess I will just have to hope it is in the extended DVD. 

Reviwer Responses

Ithilwen= I'm glad you like the story. One of the greatest compliments I got was from my friend who read the part where Faramir received the letter and asked if Tolkien had written it! I am also glad that you didn't mind me taking Tolkien's lines. I was worried it would change the whole tone of the story. And you are right, there should have been more Faramir in TT. I think more of him would bring out his true character. The actor did do a good job, though. He did seem a little too much like Boromir, but hopefully that will change in ROTK.

Smeagol= Elrohir is my favorite twin too. I think it had to do with another fanfic I read that I can't remember the name or in which Elrohir was just so kool. Gollum was actually better than I thought he would be considering he's CG. I did keep laughing when he sounded like Yoda. (Something like: "soft and silent like shadows we must be.) I kept laughing at inappropriate times or screaming when Legolas appeared. Haldir was so sad!! I really liked him and they killed him! *pouts* Yes the drowning and Frodo in a ring-trance does seem to happen a lot. Lol! He'll probably drown in Mount Doom! Don't kill me, but I liked the horses for the Nazgul steeds better. I don't know why. Perhaps I just like horsies. Faramir feels a bit guilty about the letter, but I don't really go into that. And I hate Denethor too. When I see him in ROTK I am sure I will be thrown out of the theaters when I start throwing popcorn at the screen and yelling about "Evil jerk dude!" You'll just have to wait and see about Denethor.

Argentum-Draco= You're going to China? Kool! See above last sentence for the answer to your question.

Eowyniel= I can't believe you hate my story, I worked so hard on it! Lol! Glad you finally reviewed, I've been waiting, Linde. Did you ever finish the story? By the way, I'm kinda writing a sequel. I think it may be shorter than this one, but who knows?

Ewan is hot= Thanks for reviewing! If your name is connected to Ewan McGregor, I totally agree.

The evil witch queen= Hmmmm. Working to death on purpose. . . I think I feel a plot bunny biting. 

Lady Evenstar= Yes, everyone loves reviews, including me! Thanks for encouraging me! I hope you like the rest of the story.

Silmarien= ROTK was my favorite book for just that reason... Faramir was in it! Even though Legolas is my fav movie character, Faramir is my fav book character. 

RRP= Don't worry, you get lots more! Your compliments and others really encourage me to keep writing. I hope the rest of the story lives up to your expectations.

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            Faramir woke early the next morning. Though wishing to turn over and go back to sleep, he made himself get up, knowing that his father would call the council of captains together. Faramir decided to catch a quick bite to eat as he passed through the kitchen, a shortcut to the council chambers. He was surprised to see that Pippin was already there. Faramir eyed the hobbit's steadily growing plate with astonishment. Sensing that he was being watched, Pippin looked up. The hobbit jumped to his feet and bowed. "Good morning, my lord. Off to the council?"

            "Yes I am. I thought to eat something, but it seems I got here too late." Pippin turned red.

            "Sorry, my lord." Faramir smiled and Pippin hastily offered him something from his plate. The Captain selected a crispy, browned croissant and hid a grin at the sad, longing look on the hobbit's face as he ate it.

            "We must not abandon the outer defenses. The Enemy must pay dearly for the crossing of the River. He cannot attack us from north of Cair Andros because of the marches, nor south towards Lebennin because of the width of the River there. He will attack at Osgiliath, as he did before, when Boromir denied him the passage."

            //When Boromir denied him the passage? You forget, Father, that I also was there. But I do not expect that you wish to acknowledge that fact.// "That was a trial. We may make the Enemy pay ten times our loss at the passage, but at our own cost. He can afford to lose a host more than we can afford to lose a company. Even then, the retreat of those we put out far afield will be dangerous, if he wins across in force."

            "And what of Cair Andros?" put in Imrahil. "That too must be held, if Osgiliath is defended. There is danger on our left, for the Rohirrim may or may not come to our aid in time. But Faramir has told us of the great forces drawing ever to the Black Gate. More than one host may issue from it, and strike in more than one place."

            Denethor would not listen to their arguments. "Much is risked in war. Cair Andros is manned, no more reinforcements can be sent. I will not yield the River and the Pelennor without a fight... not if there is a captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will." The council was silent, all knowing that the last comment was directed at the Steward's son.

            Finally Faramir answered. "I do not oppose your will, sire. Since you no longer have Boromir, I will go and do what I can in his stead... if you command it."

            "I do so."

            Faramir stood, knowing that he would have to leave as soon as he was given leave. "Then farewell. But if I should return, think better of me."

            Denethor stared at him, his eyes revealing nothing. "That depends on the manner of your return." Faramir left then, being dismissed by a wave of Denethor's hand. He quickly prepared his horse to leave, Mablung, Damrod, and Jirnlen saddling their own to accompany him. As they were mounting, Mithrandir came up to speak to Faramir. 

            "Do not throw your life away rashly or in bitterness. You will be needed here, for other things then war. Your father loves you, Faramir, and will remember it before the end."

            Faramir answered softly so that only Mithrandir heard him. "My friend, you are of the wise, but in this you err. I will not throw my life away, for I know that Father will never care, no matter what I do." Faramir mounted his horse before Mithrandir could reply. "Farewell, my friend." Without looking back, he led his men, as well as other men of Minas Tirith who wished to fight, away from the City.

            Mithrandir sadly watched him leave. "Farewell, son of Denethor. May both of you find the truth before it is too late."

~*~

            "Captain, the enemy is winning over the River crossing!" Above the din of battle, Faramir heard his lieutenant's call. Dispatching another hideous orc, Faramir sounded the retreat from his horn. The defenders of Osgiliath pulled back to the Causeway Forts, protected some by the walls. In the lull in fighting that followed, Faramir surveyed the damage to his men. Many were wounded, many were dead. And from the looks of the opposing army, they were ten times outnumbered, if not more. Faramir turned to a messenger. "Ride to the City. Tell the Steward of our plight." As the messenger left, Faramir turned towards the battlefield, laden with bodies of Rangers, orcs, and Southrons alike. In the sky rode the Black riders, not attacking, but without a need to. Their presence was enough to terrify the men. //We cannot hold out much longer.//

It seemed that hours passed before help arrived. And that help was in the form of one man, Mithrandir, upon his horse Shadowfax. At the sight of the White Rider, the Black Riders broke away from harassing the army of Gondor. Mithrandir came up to Faramir. "Captain Faramir, what do you need me to do."

"We need to retreat back to the City. We will have to fight our way back, so the wounded need to be moved before the army withdraws."

Mithrandir nodded. "Give me a handful of horsemen and I will do as you ask."

"Thank you." As Mithrandir left, Faramir began to fully realize the trial the rest of the men would now have to face. //May Eru help us all.//

As soon as the train of wounded men was out of site, Faramir began organizing the remaining troops for the retreat. He started sending soldiers back to the City, under the control of his second-in-command, Lieutenant Hawkor. The Lieutenant was not pleased at leaving his Captain. "Sir, come with the first withdrawal! I will stay behind with the rearguard."

Faramir shook his head. "That is my job. I must see all my men safely to the City! Now move it, Lieutenant, that's an order!" 

Unfortunately Faramir now found himself at the brunt of the attack. The rearguard held the orcs and Southrons at bay as best they could. //Only a quarter of a mile left// thought Faramir as the rearguard turned to face the oncoming lines of fire. He could see the City, towers gleaming through the smoke of war. Faramir focused his attentions on the lines of orcs bearing torches, the scarlet-clad Southron men. Suddenly a shrill screech filled the air. Terror took hold of both men and beasts as the Black Riders stooped to kill. Faramir could not hold his soldiers together; they fled in all directions, casting their weapons aside. Only a precious few men managed to keep their horses in check, and fought by their Captain's side. Things were desperate, when a trumpet rang from the Citadel. From the Gate sprang a small calvary, led by the swan-knights of Dol Amroth under Prince Imrahil. Leading the charge was the white blur of Mithrandir upon Shadowfax. The Black Riders again fled from the gleaming wizard. 

Faramir, though, had no time to marvel at the sight. He was embroiled in fighting a mounted Southron, a champion of his people, very skilled and deadly. Suddenly, a white agony burst in his chest and he fell from his horse, for a Southron dart had hit him. Faramir struggled to remain conscious, watching as the Southron's sword swept towards him. As he watched death coming, he stared back in its face, facing death with the dignity befitting a Steward's son. Closer the sword came, only to be stop by a gleaming sword of Dol Amroth. The swan-knight pushed the Southron back. At last Faramir could no longer hold back unconsciousness. He slipped into darkness, a sleep of nightmares.

As the knights of Dol Amroth drove back the army of the Enemy, Prince Imrahil rode with his honor guard to find wounded. "Over here, my lord!" cried out one of his men. Imrahil rode over to where the man stood. Fear gripped him as he saw the dangerously peaceful face of his nephew. Imrahil dismounted in a flash and knelt by the body. "Faramir." He hesitantly felt for a pulse, dreading what he would find. Relief filled the Prince as he felt Faramir's heart still beating. Imrahil checked the Captain for wounds, finding and removing the deadly Southron dart that pierced his chest. Faramir's ribs had turned the dart, but Imrahil still did not know if it was poisoned or not. Remounting his horse, Imrahil placed his nephew in front of him and began riding towards the City. "Please make it Faramir," he whispered, "for your people need their Captain. And I would not have my beloved sister's last child die in my arms."  

Denethor heard the people's wailing long before Imrahil carried Faramir to him in the chamber of the White Tower. "Your son has returned, my lord, after great deeds." The Prince told Denethor of Faramir's bravery and sacrifice. Imrahil's eyes blazed with accusation. The Steward knew that his brother-in-law blamed him for Faramir's injury. And he blamed himself.

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Is Denethor changing? Is that possible?


	24. Chapter 24

I think I will give my readers a few chapters. This one and the next, I think. Hey, if I get one more review I'll be at 100! (In case you couldn't guess, that is a plea for reviews)

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            Denethor sat by Faramir, deep in thought. He ran a hand over his face. //Am I to lose both my sons? My city is falling, my son is dying. My son. The one I never wanted, the one I ignored. The son I nearly killed. And now he is dying and I find that I care. I care! Why?//

*You care because you love him.*

**Yes, you loved him, but you didn't listen to your heart. Now he is dying and he hates you! He hates you for what you did to him.**

//No! He can't hate me, he can't die hating me!//

*Faramir doesn't hate you, he loves you. And he will not die, one will come to save him.*

**No, he is as good as dead now. See, he is already burning, a fire runs through him.**

//A fire.//

            "Do not weep, my lord." Pippin's stammering voice pulled Denethor out of his thoughts. "Perhaps he will get well. Have you asked Gandalf?"

            "Do not talk to me about wizards if you seek to comfort me! That fool's hope has failed." //I have seen it.// "The Enemy has found it, and now his power grows. He sees our very thought and all we do now is hold off the inevitable." Denethor picked Faramir's hand up, the flesh burning with fever. "I sent my son forth, unthanked, unblessed, out into needless peril, and now he lies here dying with fire in his veins. No, Peregrin, whatever may happen in this war, my line is ending, the House of the Stewards has failed. Mean folk shall rule the last remnant of the Kings of Men, lurking in the hills until all are hounded out." Men called out to Denethor from behind the closed door, crying for him to lead the City. "I will not come down! I must stay beside my son. He might speak before the end." //Perhaps he will forgive me.// "But the end is near. Follow whoever you will, even the Grey Fool, though his hope has failed. Here I stay."

            Pippin watched the Steward, his own feeling of helplessness and confusion rising. Why now did Denethor care for his son? Had he not said before that he wished Faramir dead in place of Boromir? The hobbit stared at the Captain's fevered face. //He needs healing, not grief. I wish Strider or Gandalf was here, they'd know what to do. They could bring him back from wherever he wanders.//

            Faramir indeed wandered. He walked through darkness, a blackness permeated only by red sheets of fire. In his mind, he roamed everywhere, searching. Searching for a way out, perhaps searching for eternal rest. Faramir's mind swirled in confusion. //Where am I? Where do I go? Who will help me?// "Ada! Ada I need you!"

            Denethor's heart broke at his son's whispered plea. //He cries for father, but not for me. Why doesn't he cry for me?// Then Pippin returned from the errand that the Steward had sent him on, bringing six strong men. "Cover him for warmth. Take up his bed. We go to Fen Hollen." Fen Hollen, the door to where the Kings and Stewards of old lay dead. //There will be our resting place, my son.//

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And thanks goes to the Atlas of Middle Earth. Without it, the whole story would be lost because before I got it, I had no clue where and what things were.


	25. Chapter 25

This is a short chapter. This is the chapter "The Pyre of Denethor" in Faramir's point of view. "But Faramir was unconscious during that chapter!" you say? Yes, so this is not a normal point of view. Sort of like a dream-world that views reality.

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            Faramir smelled oil. The stench pulled his mind back from the brink of chaos. //Oil. Something will burn. More fire will come.// The Captain's eyes opened, not in body, but in soul. He 'saw' the room around him, the people, all painted in blacks, golds, and reds. Faramir found himself lying upon black stone that was frigid to the touch. Fiery blankets lay over him, the heat smothering. 

            Beyond an ebony door rose a clamor of voices. A dark figure, black as night, with a gold face, strode towards the door crying, "Do as I bid! Slay this renegade, or must I do so myself?" The figure's eyes burned with crimson flame, a madness of death and destruction.

            As the dark figure opened the door, a white light began illuminating the room. Fear and awe ran through Faramir, and he yearned to flee this nightmare, yet his body would not obey. Voices spoke, distant and intangible. They spoke of death, life, of derangement, and evil. "Where is Faramir?" cried a strong voice.

            Another voice answered and Faramir shivered at its crazed speech, knowing it to be that of the dark figure. "He lies within, burning, already burning. They have set fire in his flesh. But soon all shall be burned. The West has failed. It shall all go up in a great fire, and all shall be ended. Ash! Ash and smoke blown away on the wind!"

            //Burning? I am burning? Yes, I feel it, the oil, the fire. But death? No,  I am not dead. I do not wish it!// The white light grew brighter, a sun amidst the night. A new figure, a white figure, came towards him, and lifted him from the icy bed. Yet the figure of darkness came also, eyes burning within the golden face. Terror filled Faramir. //Do not let me burn! Save me from this madness! Father, help me!// "Father."

            The dark figure jerked. Its eyes of fire were smothered, clear light replacing it. Faramir now saw only sadness, grief. Sparks of blue flame fell from the white eyes. Again it spoke, softer this time, gentle, loving. "Do not take my son from me! He calls for me, he calls for _me_!"

            //Father! Father, what are you doing?// Anger, terror, helplessness jumbled through Faramir's already troubled mind.

            "He will not wake again, the battle against death is pointless. Why should we wish to live longer? Why should we not go to death side by side?"

            //I wake! I see everything that is happening! Let me live!// Faramir felt himself being moved and laid down again. Denethor followed, trembling. The white figure spoke.

            "Come, we are needed. There is much that you can do still."

            Denethor's eyes blazed scarlet again as he stepped back to the table Faramir had lain on moments before. From a dark cloth he removed something. A round orb blazed gold, red, orange, yellow. Denethor himself burned coal black, shadow, a fire of shadow. Voices spoke, yet Faramir heard no words. Denethor and the white figure each radiated with light, ebony versus ivory. Faramir discerned words at last, the words of his father. "I would have things as they were in all the days of my life and in the days of my forefathers: to be the Lord of this City in peace, to leave my chair to a son after me. A son who would be his own master and no wizard's pupil, or elf's son. But if doom denies this to me, then I will have *nothing*! Neither life diminished, nor love halved, nor honor lessened." 

            //Love halved? I gave you my love, and _you_ threw it away. You threw my heart away and left the elves to pick up the pieces. Yet even though Elrond is my Ada, _you_ are my father! Why don't you see this?//

            The white figure spoke, but Faramir did not hear him, for his attention was on Denethor. Shadow spread through the Steward, all encompassing, a frenzy of anger and hatred. Yet Faramir saw something else glisten in Denethor's heart, just a tiny glimmer of light, but something. Before he could figure out what it was, more figures appeared, one the color of daylight, the others a sickly yellow. The latter figures carried torches of crimson and saffron, one of which Denethor grabbed and thrust by the table, which erupted into a pyre of flame. To Faramir's horror, his father leapt upon the pyre and laid himself down amidst the fire, the glowing orb in his hands. He watched as the white figure closed the door, shutting him away from Denethor.

            //No! Open the door, save him! You can't let him die! Please, save him! Father! FATHER!// Faramir heard a great cry and he knew that it was over. His father was dead. Grief filled his soul, and he slipped back into the darkness of fevered sleep.

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Hmm, no comments were here either. I must say, though I loved the extra Pippin in the movie, they should have done more with this scene.


	26. Chapter 26

Sorry for taking so long to update. Life has been kinda crazy lately and I just haven't found the time until now. Some news, my mom is reading the finished copy of this story and is actually liking it! She got a little confused when I introduced Pippin and I realized that I hadn't told about where he came from and stuff. I might go back and add that into chapter 23, but I don't know.

Reviewer Responses

Narn= Do not worry, I will try to never write a character-death fic again. (Killing Legolas was too hard on my heart. I had to bring him back again.) Therefore if any character seems to die, never fear, for they _will_ be back. I'm glad you don't mind my use of words, I wasn't sure how to do it otherwise. Thanks for encouraging me, I really appreciate the support.

Tigermouse= I'm glad you like it. Of course there will be Faramir/Eowyn in this. It was challenging writing a romance, I haven't really done that before, even if it was already set up. You're from Iceland? That's kool! Forgive me for the long wait. I hope you like the rest.

Trata= Nope, Aragorn is clueless. And it takes him a long time to figure it out, especially considering he's a Ranger. I guess he just can't comprehend that Faramir could be Tir. 

Silmarien= I agree, Faramir is the best character in the books.

Argentum-Draco= Yes, Denethor is dead. He burnt himself up because he went crazy from looking into the palantir.

Ewan is hot= I don't mind at all. Glad you liked it enough to review.

The evil witch queen-=Aragorn is coming. And he's clueless!

Thank you to all who reviewed. 

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            Faramir knelt in the midst of the nightmare world, surrounded by shadow. He did not see the darkness, though, only scenes from memory, from dreams. As if with fresh eyes, he relived each hurt, each injury he had been dealt by his father. Every pain lingered in his flesh, every heartache remained burned on his soul. But Faramir did not fight, letting each memory come as it willed. His brother was dead, and now so was his father. He was alone. He had no reason to resist.

            Estel, now known by his true name, Aragorn, walked into the room holding Faramir, the new Steward of Gondor. He immediately saw the man's resemblance to Boromir. The Steward seemed to be barely breathing, his pulse slow, as he burned with fever. //Time is running out for him. He has fought long, and will not last through the night. I must help him, and soon.//

            Faramir came at last to the memory he most dreaded. It was the last time his father had hurt him, the worst time. Again, he listened to Denethor's words. "You are weak. You are worthless!" Faramir braced himself for the last sentence, prepared to accept them, to give in to the shadow. But they never came. Instead, Denethor disappeared, a smiling young boy in his place. At first Faramir didn't recognize him. When he did, the Captain gasped. 

            "Boromir!" Indeed, it was Boromir, as he had looked years before.

            "Why are you listening to him?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Why do you believe what Father said? It's not true, you know. I thought you learned that in Rivendell?" 

            "I did. I just don't want to fight anymore. I'm tired." 

            "You can't give up! Did I give up trying to save the hobbits as I died?"

            "I'm not like you, Boromir."

            "No. You are stronger. But even the strongest man can fall if he doesn't let others help him. Let someone help you Faramir."

            Faramir hung his head. "I don't know if I can." 

            Young Boromir smiled. "Here is your chance to start." In the distance, Faramir heard someone calling his name. "Estel calls. Go to your brother."

            "You are my brother."

            Boromir placed his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "And I always will be. But now you have another. At first I was jealous of him, but now I see that he cares for you. He and Elladan and Elrohir are your brothers now. And Elrond is your father."

            "Ada." Faramir whispered, remembering the elf lord and his kindness.

            "Go on, little brother."

            Faramir looked at the boy. "Farewell, Boromir." He stood and walked toward Estel's voice. 

            Boromir watched as he left. "Farewell, little brother. Till we meet again."

Near the edge of the darkness, Faramir found Aragorn. "It is time to leave this place, Lord Faramir." Faramir smiled at his foster brother. Aragorn, though, did not recognize Faramir as Tirpalandil. //That will come in time. For now, he is my King.// 

            "Lead the way."

~*~

            Faramir blinked at the bright light, as his eyes opened. Focusing, he found that Aragorn was bent over him. "My lord, you called me and I come. What does the king command?"

            Aragorn smiled. "Walk no more in the shadows, but awake! Rest a while, for you are tired, and have something to eat. Be ready for when I come back."

            "I will, lord, for who would lie idle when the king has returned?"

            "Farewell then for a while. I must go to others who need me." And Aragorn left with Mithrandir and a reluctant Imrahil, leaving the guard Beregond and his son, Bergil, to watch over the Steward. It wasn't until later that Aragorn wondered how Faramir knew he was king. 

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I think I'll post at least another chapter tonight.


	27. Chapter 27

This is a short chapter. I probably should have put it on the last one, but anyway, here it is.

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            As soon as Aragorn dismissed him, Prince Imrahil nearly ran back to his nephew's room. Faramir had fallen asleep again and Imrahil did not have the heart to wake him. He sent Beregond and the guard's son away, promising to keep an eye on the new Steward. The Prince frowned when he realized that he would have to tell Faramir about Denethor's death. Before leaving his company, Mithrandir had told him that it would be ill advised to tell Faramir of the Captain's own part, for fear of the guilt that would take hold of him. Imrahil agreed. He did not want Faramir to go through what he had last time Denethor had tried to kill him. 

            Imrahil was pulled out of his thoughts when Faramir's eyes fluttered open. The Steward smiled. "Hello Uncle, how are you?"

            The Prince could see Faramir's weariness. "I am fine. You need to go back to sleep for you are weary."

            Always stubborn, Faramir shook his head slightly. "I will sleep when I know who is in charge of the City. Has the King claimed his crown, or are you in charge while I am ill? I would guess on the later, for I do not think Aragorn wants the crown yet." That shocked Imrahil for Faramir had no reason to believe that his father wasn't still Steward. 

            "Why do you not think your father is in charge?"

            Faramir's eyes were half closed. He was so tired that he didn't even notice what he was saying. "Did no one tell you of his death? No, they would have."

            Imrahil's eyes widened in surprise, then anger. "Did that guard tell you?"

            "No, I saw it. There was fire, so much fire. Father wanted both of us to burn. But only Father died." The Prince grabbed his nephew's hand, concerned, but Faramir just stifled a yawn. "I think I will take your advice. I am tired." With that, Faramir drifted off into blissful slumber.

            When Faramir awoke again, Imrahil was gone and Mithrandir was sitting by his bed. "Good morning Faramir, Steward of Gondor. You have slept long, though not as long as I hoped. You still need to recover your strength."

            "I have slept for too long, I fear, my friend. As Steward, I should be assisting the King, not lying in bed."

            "You will begin your duties as Steward soon enough." Mithrandir paused before continuing. "Though, I am interested in knowing how you learnt of your Father's death before anyone told you."

            Faramir hesitated before reluctantly telling the wizard of what he had seen. However, he did leave out his own thoughts and what had happened when he had slipped back into his nightmares. //I do not wish to talk about it. Mithrandir may be my friend, but I am not ready to speak of it yet, no matter what Boromir said about letting others help. I can handle this on my own.//

            Mithrandir, of course, knew that something else had happened, but did not mention it. //Time will tell now if Faramir will truly heal. No longer does he have the chance to confront Denethor. Now, he can only confront his past.//

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I want to see the Healing Houses! I can't wait until EE ROTK.


	28. Chapter 28

Yay! Faramir's better! And now the chapter in which I introduce... Eowyn! I actually like her now, especially after watching the Two Towers. 

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            Faramir walked through the garden of the Houses of Healing, feeling the soft breeze in his hair, the sun shining on his face, trying to forget the nightmares that now plagued him. The Steward sighed. He had not had a good night's rest since he had been wounded. Always dreams followed him. Though he fought them with all his strength, it tired him, making his healing slow. //Which aggravates the healers to no end.// he thought with a small smile. Indeed, that was why he was in the garden, the nurses felt it might help him heal. //Or at least get me out of their way. I believe they rue their decision to let me out of my bed.// The Warden of the Houses of Healing had been especially upset when he found the Steward lifting his sword with his injured arm. Despite Faramir's protests that the arm was healed, the Warden had insisted that he not strain himself in any physical way. The last straw had been when a nurse found Faramir giving piggyback rides to the healers' small children. //I guess they figure I could not strain myself in the garden.//

            "My Lord Faramir?" He turned to see the Warden. //What does he want? I refuse to go back to bed.// Then Faramir saw the woman who accompanied the Warden. She was tall, with golden hair. Faramir saw that her arm was injured, but he perceived that her injury was not the cause of the pain he saw in her clear blue eyes. In fact, he saw the sorrow and anguish she felt, and he was saddened by it. //No one so beautiful should feel that way.// "My lord." The Warden spoke again. "This is the Lady Eowyn of Rohan. She rode with the king and was badly wounded, and is now in under my care. But she is not content, and wishes to speak to the Steward of the City."

            Then Eowyn spoke up, not wishing to offend the Steward, who was perhaps the only one who could free her from the prison of the Healing Houses. "It is not that way exactly, for it is not lack of care that grieves me. No houses could be fairer, for those who desire to be healed. But I cannot lie idle, caged. I looked for death in battle, but I have not died and the battle still goes on."

            Faramir signaled for the Warden to leave. //This woman wishes for death? I wonder why that is so.// "What would you have me do, my lady? I also am a prisoner of the healers."

            Eowyn looked at the Steward. His dark hair gleamed in the sun, and she saw that he was quite handsome, his grey eyes filled with compassion and wisdom. The scar that ran under his eye gave him a dashing look. The Lady shook those thoughts from her mind and focused on how she could convince this Faramir to let her go. She did not notice how Faramir looked at her, seeing her grief. Again he spoke. "What do you wish? If it lies in my power, I will do it."

            "I wish for you to command this Warden to let me go." But Eowyn felt doubt rise. //Does he think me a child who cannot sit still? I do not wish for him to think of me like that. All I want is to die like my uncle in battle. I cannot have Aragorn, I cannot ride with the army unless in disguise. All I can do is die bravely so that I will be remembered.//

            "I myself am in the Warden's keeping. Nor have I taken up my authority in the City. But even if I had, I would listen to the healer's counsel and would not cross his will in this, unless there is some great need."

            "But I do not desire healing. I wish to ride to war like my brother, Eomer. Or better yet, like King Theoden, for he died and had both honor and peace."

            Faramir was grieved by her hopelessness. //Is this how Ada felt when I had lost hope?// "It is too late to follow the Captains, even if you had your strength, my lady. But unfortunately, death in battle may come to us all, willing or unwilling. If you obey the Healer's command, then you may be ready to face death in your own manner. You and I must endure, with patience, the long hours of waiting."

            At his words, Eowyn softened a little. She felt tears begin to fall and she hung her head. //Am I relieved? No, it is better that I find death with my full strength.// "But the healers would have me lie in bed for seven days, and my window does not look eastward." //I wish to look out to where Aragorn is fighting.//

            Even though he felt pity at her words, Faramir smiled reassuringly. "Your window does not look east? That can be amended. This I will command the Warden: If you will stay in this house, my lady, and take your rest, then you may walk in this garden, as you will, and you will be able to look east. It would also ease my care, if you would speak to me or walk with me."

            Eowyn raised her head and looked into his eyes. She saw pity, compassion. Understanding? How could he understand what she went through? Eowyn also saw something else, something she could not identify. But she did not try to figure it out. "How could I ease your care, my lord, for I do not desire to speak with living men?"

            "Would you have my plain answer?" 

            "Yes."

            "Then, Lady Eowyn of Rohan, I say that you are beautiful." //Did I actually say that? Dear Valar, what am I doing? That's it, I've gone completely mad.// "In the valleys of our hills there are flowers fair and bright, and maidens fairer still, but neither flower nor maiden have I seen till now in Gondor so lovely and so sorrowful. It may be that only a few days are left before darkness falls upon our world, and when it comes I hope to face it steadfastly. But it would ease my heart, if while the sun still shines, I could see you still. For you and I have both passed under the wings of the Shadow and the same hand drew us back." Faramir nearly clamped a hand over his mouth. //What possessed me to say all that? She probably thinks that I'm crazy.//

            "No, my lord. Shadow still lies on me. Look not to me for healing, I am a shieldmaiden and my hand is ungentle. But I thank you that I need not keep to my chamber. I will walk abroad by the grace of the Steward of the City." With that she left, leaving Faramir to his thoughts.

            //I wonder what it is that makes her so sad?// Faramir decided to ask the Warden about the Lady, but he knew nothing, though he told the Steward to try talking to the halfling, Meriadoc Brandybuck, for he had ridden with Eowyn in battle. After he and Merry spoke, Faramir felt he knew her better, understood her grief. The next morning, he saw her standing on the wall. "Lady Eowyn," he called impulsively. "Would you do me the honor of walking in the garden with me? I am bored of my thoughts and wish to hear yours." 

            Eowyn looked down to where he called her. His eyes looked so hopeful that she could not refuse. So she came down to the garden. "My lord, you are looking well this morning."

            "For once my sleep was untroubled." Faramir looked at her. "And you look lovely today. A jewel in the sun."

            Eowyn found herself blushing, and quickly changed the subject. "Have you any news from the east?"

            "No, and we are not likely to get any. In the end, we will either have news of victory, or we will see the armies of the Dark Lord pouring through the gates. Yet with the King, I have more hope for the former." At the mention of Aragorn, both went silent. The rest of the day they spent silently walking or sitting, just enjoying the other's company.

            Thus it went for the next few days. Eowyn found herself actually liking Faramir's company, his insights on war, philosophy, history. Faramir found himself falling more and more in love with the shieldmaiden of Rohan. It frustrated him, though, that her heart wished for Aragorn. Not only was he jealous, but he also knew that Eowyn would only get her heart broken, for Aragorn was truly in love with Arwen Undomiel, the daughter of Lord Elrond. Faramir did not wish for Eowyn to grieve anymore than she already did. Her constant death wishing also baffled him. It seemed that all she wanted to do was die gloriously in battle. 

            Finally his frustration got the better of him. Four mornings after he had first met Eowyn, as that sat next to each other in the garden, Faramir let his feelings out. "Eowyn, why do you want to die so badly?"

            Eowyn was surprised by his anger. "I have told you, Faramir. The man I love doesn't love me and I am not allowed to fight like I have been trained."

            "And for that you have become suicidal? Because King Aragorn was already in love with someone before he met you? That is no reason for seeking death."

            Anger rose up in Eowyn and she started yelling at him. "How would you know how I feel? I gave my love to Aragorn, but he threw it away like unwanted trash! You do not know what it is like to have someone you love hurt you like that!" 

            Faramir froze. His eyes went blank as he struggled to hide his emotions. At once, Eowyn realized she had said something that had hurt him deeply. Before she could apologize, Faramir stood up. "You don't know anything about me," he rasped out. He began walking away. "Ask someone, sometime, about how I became Steward in the first place." Eowyn watched as he strode into the House, leaving her behind to ponder his words.

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I hope you liked this. I will try to update soon.


	29. Chapter 29

Hi all! Sorry for the wait, I have been quite busy. I'm seeing TTT this weekend again. Last time I went I thought I heard the Ent music when Aragorn was telling Theoden to ride out with him, right before they charge out of Helm's Deep. Did anyone else notice, or am I hearing things. Anyway, on to reviews.  
Reveiwer Resonses  
Vanessa-chan= Yay I'm on someone else's favorite list! Glad you liked the story!  
Trata= Reunions are nice. I tried to make it a little humorous, as you will see in later chapters.  
Silmarien= I never make people angry at each other without a reason. (usually a mush scene)  
Narm= I don't miss Denethor either. In fact, when Return of the King comes out, I plan on throwing popcorn at him. My nickname for him is Evil Dude. Yay, another Tolkien romance believer. I think it is all Aragorn's fault that Eowyn falls for him, he keeps flirting with her! Grrrrrr.  
The evil witch queen= Yes Faramir could teach Eowyn a lot. Unfortunately she doesn't figure things out for a while.  
Violet Raven= Denethor may have a reason, but it isn't a very good one. There is no excuse for hurting a child. I should have let Aragorn finish him off. Grrrrr. I don't like him at all. Sorry, I'm renting my inner anger. Thanks for reading and reviewing!  
Smeagol= I understand how you feel. Sometimes I don't feel like reading or writing which annoys my friend Linde cause I tell her about what I expect to write and then I don't. And yes, it is nice that Faramir calls for Denethor, but does he really forgive him? hehe  
Laheara= I also liked Eowyn after seeing the movies. The twins are also some of my favorite characters and I reiterate that they had better be in ROTK. Here is an update for you though I don't know about posting often. Sorry.  
Acacia= Ooooo puppy dog eyes. I'm a sucker for those. Especially if they belong to my little elfie-poo. Or my Farie-warie. Or little Frodo-wodo. Hehe, making nicknames are fun!  
  
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          When Faramir did not meet her for lunch, Eowyn began worrying. Finally she decided to talk to the one person who would tell her anything she wanted. Merry. The hobbit was certainly glad to see her. "My lady, it's been awhile since I've seen you. Are you well?"  
          "As well as can be. I have come to ask you about Lord Faramir."  
          "Really? He was in here a few days ago, asking about you."  
          Though interested in what Faramir had inquired about, Eowyn kept to her task. "I fear I said something this morning that hurt him, but I do not know how."  
          "What did you say?"  
          "I said that he did not know how it felt to have someone you love hurt you. He hardened, his eyes filled with grief. He told me to ask someone how he became Steward in the first place. I just assumed his father had died in battle."  
          Merry grew sad. "I wasn't here, but my cousin Pippin was. He was in the service of Lord Denethor. Apparently, Denethor lost his mind when Faramir came back severely wounded. He tried to burn himself and Faramir alive, on a pyre. Luckily Pippin went and got Gandalf who saved Faramir, but he was unable to save Denethor from himself. I think it must have plagued Faramir that his father tried to kill him, even if it was in a fit of madness. Pippin said they weren't very close to begin with, either. In fact, it sounded like Denethor only had love for his older son, Boromir."  
          "I never knew that. Faramir does not speak of his father. But still, our problems are different. I was hurt when Aragorn refused my heart. Faramir was hurt by his father's madness."  
          "May I ask you something, Lady Eowyn?"  
          "Of course, Master Meriadoc."  
          "Why do you love Aragorn?" Startled, it took awhile for Eowyn to answer.  
          "He is strong, handsome, stately... " she stopped, not knowing what else to say.  
          Merry raised an eyebrow. "He is King." Eowyn stared blankly at him, knowing that he had hit on the truth of the matter. "Pardon my saying this, but don't you think that's a bit shallow?" //Shallow? My love for him is based on something deeper than his being king... isn't it?// Troubled, Eowyn said nothing. "I don't mean to offend you, my lady, but don't you think that marrying someone for their crown will just end in misery? Not that I have any experience, mind you, but that's how I think it is. Shouldn't you love someone for their personality, sense of humor, their friendship? I think that to truly love someone, you have to be friends with them."  
          Finally Eowyn found her voice, shaky though it was. "Thank you, Master Meriadoc, for your words of wisdom. I will think on them." Eowyn left the room. Merry just sat back smugly in his chair and lit his pipe.  
  


  
          Her mind tired from thinking, Eowyn decided to take a nap before dinner. She fell asleep quickly, yet her mind would not rest.  
  
~~* Eowyn sat on an elaborate throne, a crown on her hair. Beside her sat her husband, King Aragorn. She smiled as the people of Gondor cheered for her, shouting her name. Aragorn brought her hand up and kissed it, love in his eyes. "And now," Aragorn declared, "the captains will swear their loyalty to my queen, the lovely Eowyn." One by one, the captains and princes of Gondor bowed over her hand, swearing to always protect her.  
          The last one was Faramir. He slowly walked up to her. Raising her hand, he brushed it with his lips, a slight touch that caused a shiver to run up Eowyn's spine. "I swear loyalty to Queen Eowyn of Gondor. I will protect her with my life for as long as that may last. Long live the Queen." He stepped down, but turned and looked back at Eowyn. The longing and pain in his eyes made Eowyn's heart feel like it was breaking. As he walked away, she stepped toward him, calling out his name. As she did, the dream changed. Now Eowyn found herself standing in the garden of a beautiful house. She heard voices talking, children laughing, and she walked towards them. Eowyn stood frozen, shocked by what she saw. Sitting on a stone bench was Faramir, his arm around a dark-haired woman. The couple smiled down on the children, a boy and a girl, both of whom looked remarkably like Faramir. Eowyn's heart wrenched when she saw the woman kiss Faramir lightly on the cheek. Without thinking, she stormed up to them. "Who are you, and why are you here with Faramir?" The woman turned and smiled at her.  
          "I am his wife."  
          "Wife? Faramir, you said you weren't married!"  
          Faramir stood up to face her. "I wasn't. But you rejected me in favor of the King. Do not be troubled, though. I am now very happily married." He helped the dark-haired woman up and pulled her into an embrace. As they kissed passionately, rage welled up within Eowyn. How dare that woman marry Faramir, how dare she kiss him! Jealousy, pure jealousy, raced through her veins. Eowyn lunged at the woman, determined to wring her neck. *~~  
  
          "Lady Eowyn? Lady Eowyn, I brought food for you, since you missed dinner." She woke up suddenly to the voice of one of the nurses. Eowyn kept her eyes closed until the nurse left. When she heard the door shut, she sighed. //What a dream.// Eowyn tried desperately not to think of it. //I love Aragorn, and that is that. I do not love Faramir, I do not love Faramir.// She repeated the mantra to herself, trying to make it come true. //I can't love him. That means I'll have to face up to my mistakes.//  
          A knock came on the door. "Come in." The door opened to reveal none other then the one person she was trying to get her mind off of.  
          "The nurse said you did not wake when she came in. She asked me to check on you, make sure you were eating." Faramir's grey eyes seemed to bore holes in her soul.  
          "I am fine." Nodding, he started walking away. "Faramir!" He turned toward her, his eyes passive, not showing any emotion. "I... I am sorry for what I said this morning. It was wrong of me to think that you had never been hurt like I had." Eowyn saw a flicker of something pass over his eyes before he nodded and began walking to the door again. "Faramir." Again he turned. "Do you forgive me?"  
          As she looked at him, his heart softened. "Of course I forgive you. That is what friends are for." Faramir smiled warmly at her before leaving. Eowyn breathed a sigh of relief. //Friends. He is just my friend, nothing more.// She tried to ignore the small voice that whispered to her, *Then why don't you believe it?*  
  
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I think I'll give you another chapter or two tonight. Just to let you know, I wrote a poem about the dream woman that I think I'm going to post tonight too.


	30. Chapter 30

Alrighty, here's another chapter. It deals with Eowyn and Faramir still, though the next chapters will deal with the aftermath of the War of the Ring. Hope you all like it!

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            Faramir stood on the walls of the city, looking out. It had only been five days since he had first met Eowyn, yet he knew that he was hopelessly in love with her. Though she wasn't the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, since he had lived among the fair elves, her hidden spirit and courage held his heart captive. //Would that she only felt the same about me.//

            "My lord," He turned to see Eowyn walk up behind him. "May I stand here with you?" She still wasn't sure yet if he had truly forgiven her for her accusations the day before.

            "I would be honored, my lady."

            Eowyn shivered in the cold wind. "I do not think I dressed warm enough. The air has an evil chill to it." At once, Faramir called for a servant to bring her a heavy cloak and a warm mantle. Eowyn gasped when the servant returned with the mantle. "It's lovely!" she declared of the robe. It was the blue of a deep summer's night, silver stars embroidered on the hem and throat.

            "It was my mother's."

            His sad voice startled Eowyn. "I cannot wear this. You mother... "

            "My mother would love to see it on you." Faramir wrapped the mantle around Eowyn's shoulders. "It suits you." She pulled the robe closely around her, trying to block out the cold. 

            It had been long since Faramir had seen the mantle and it brought back the vague memories he had of his mother. No longer could he see her face, he only remembered her kind, loving voice singing to him. He remembered that it was after her death that he first became the brunt of Denethor's anger.

            Faramir shoved thoughts of his father away. //I will not think of him. That is my past.// He saw Eowyn looking northward into the frigid wind. With a sinking heart, he realized that she must be thinking of Aragorn. "What do you look for, Eowyn?" he asked her anyway.

            "The Black Gate of Mordor lies that way and it is there that he must be arriving now. It has been seven days since he rode away."

            "Seven days," Faramir murmured, almost to himself. "Do not think ill of me, Eowyn, but these seven says have brought me both joy and a pain that I never thought to know. Joy to see you, but pain because the fear and doubt of this evil time has grown dark indeed. I would not have this world end now, or lose so soon what I have found."

            Eowyn tried to ignore the deep look in his eyes. "Lose what you have found, Faramir? I do not know what you have found in these days that you could lose. But come, my friend, let us not speak of it." //I fear my will shall falter.// "Let us not speak at all! I feel that I am standing upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before me. I cannot tell if there is any light behind me, for I cannot turn yet. I wait for some stroke of doom."

            Faramir's heart ached at her words. "Yes, we wait for the stroke of doom." //But no matter how doom comes, I fear my heart is in your hands, to take or to destroy.//

            They stood in silence as the wind died. It seemed that light had failed, the Sun bleared, and no sound came from the City. Without thinking, Eowyn reached for Faramir's hand, gripping it tightly. But Faramir did not notice, for he saw a great wave of darkness rise over the mountains, threatening to drown all life. Lightning flashed and the earth quaked, the walls of the City trembling beneath their feet. "It reminds me of Numenor." Faramir was startled to hear himself speak.

            "Of Numenor?"

            "Yes, of the land of Westernesse that foundered, of the dark wave climbing over the green lands, above the hills, and coming on, darkness inescapable. I often dream of it."

            "Then you think that this darkness is coming? Darkness inescapable?" Eowyn drew close to Faramir, feeling safe in his strong presence.

            "No." Faramir looked at her, and saw that she tried to hide her fear. "It was only a dream. I do not know what is happening. My mind tells me that a great evil comes and we stand at the end of time. But my heart speaks differently. Such hope and joy come to me that my mind's reasoning cannot deny it. Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan, in this hour I do not believe any darkness will endure!" Indeed hope did fill Faramir, and in his joy he leaned over and laid a soft kiss on Eowyn's forehead.

            Suddenly, a great wind rose, the shadow left, and the sun shone brightly across the land. Singing was heard coming from the streets of Minas Tirith. An Eagle flew from the East, bringing news of Aragorn's victory, yet Eowyn paid no attention to any of it. All she felt was Faramir's kiss burning upon her forehead, and upon her heart.   

(A/N: I would end the chapter now, but I felt like combining it with the next part, so. . . )

Faramir had not seen Eowyn in days. After news of the victory came, he had left the Houses of Healing to take up his authority as Steward, and began preparing for the King's return. Always, though, his mind and heart seemed to wander to the White Lady who still dwelt in the Healing Houses.

            One golden day, as Faramir worked in his room, the Warden of the Houses of Healing knocked on the door. "Lord Faramir? Might I have a word with you, my lord?"

            "Come in, have a seat." The Warden had barely sat down when Faramir spoke again. "How is Eowyn?"

            "The Lady Eowyn is why I have come to see you. She walks alone in the garden, not speaking to anyone. She grows pale, and I fear for her continued health."

            Faramir frowned. "I will speak with her."

            The Warden smiled, relieved. "Thank you, my lord. I know you can help her."

            Eowyn stared out from the ramparts, her thoughts and feelings wearying her from their constant battles. //Why does Faramir's presence torture me so? And why does it hurt even more when I do not see him? I don't understand.//

            "Eowyn." She turned her head, following Faramir with her eyes as he walked to her. "Why do you tarry here, and do not go to the celebration in Cormallen where your brother awaits you?"

            "Do you not know?" //Tell me, because I myself am unsure.//

"Two reasons there may be, but which is true, I do not know."

            His evasiveness frustrated Eowyn. "Faramir, I am not in the mood for riddles. Speak plainer!"

            "Very well. You may not be going because only your brother asked it of you and watching King Aragorn in his triumph would bring you no joy. Or because I do not go and you desire to be near me. Maybe for both these reasons and you yourself cannot choose between them." His silver-grey eyes pierced her soul with their intensity. "Eowyn, do you just not love me, or do you refuse to let yourself?"

            "I wished to be loved by another, but I do not desire your pity for that."

            "I know you desired to have the love of Lord Aragorn because he is noble and powerful and as his wife you would have the renown and glory you covet. He is admirable to you as a great captain is to a young soldier." Eowyn lowered her head, surprisingly ashamed of her feelings. "And he is, a lord among men, the greatest there now is. But when he gave you only understanding and pity, you wanted to have nothing except a brave death in battle. Look at me Eowyn!" She slowly raised her head, her own blue eyes staring into the depths of his grey ones. "Do not scorn the pity that is the gift of a gentle heart. But as for me, I do not offer you my pity. You are a high and valiant lady and have won renown by deeds that will never be forgotten. You are beautiful beyond the words of even the Elven-tongue. And I love you." Faramir clasped her hands between his and pulled her closer to him. "Once I did pity your sorrow, but now, even if you were sorrowless, without fear, even were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, I would still love you. Eowyn, do you love me? If your heart could never have room for me, tell me so and I will leave, for even though you may wish to be friends, I could not bear to see you lonely and sad, or worse, in the arms of another. But if you do love me as I do you, then I would ask you to marry me and my joy would be greater than any other's in the land."

            Faramir's words, his love, melted Eowyn's hardened heart, and she saw her true feelings revealed to her at last. Finally, she realized that she loved Faramir, had always loved him, but had refused to see it out of pride. Now her pride no longer held her in bondage and her heart sang at Faramir's words. Her dream also made sense in her new freedom. Just as Faramir had professed his heartbreak should she find love in another, so Eowyn remembered her anger at the dream woman. Anger that the woman had taken the one she truly loved away from her.

            Tears rolled down Eowyn's cheeks. "Oh Faramir! My pride has refused my heart long enough! I stand now in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun, for the Shadow has departed! I will be a shieldmaiden no longer. I will not fight with the great Riders, nor will I take joy only in songs filled with battle and death. I will be a healer and love all things that grow." Eowyn looked into Faramir's eyes and he saw that her's were filled with love. Love for him, true and absolute love! "No longer do I desire to be queen." And a smile spread across her face like the rising sun. 

            Faramir laughed, in relief and in pure happiness. "That is well, for I am not a king. Yet if you will have me, Eowyn my love, then we will marry, and perhaps in time we will live in fair Ithilien and grow beautiful gardens in peace. All things there will grow with joy if the White Lady comes." 

            Eowyn smiled in return. "Then must I leave my own people, my love? And would you have your people say of you, 'There goes a lord who tamed the wild shieldmaiden of the North! Was there no woman of the race of Numenor to choose?'" 

            "I would." Faramir took Eowyn into his arms and kissed her. At once, all thoughts flew from their minds, not the least of which was that they were standing on a wall, in view of many. Their thoughts were only for each other.

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Just a few more chapters to go! I can't believe how long this story has gotten! I hope it hasn't been so long that it's gotten boring.


	31. Chapter 31

I am soooo sorry for not updating, but for some reason I just have not found the time.  
Reviewer Responses  
Smeagol= Indeed hobbits are known for their sensible and intelligent nature. *remembers Pippin and the little well incident in Moria* or maybe not.  
Susan= Man, everyone is so hyped about Aragorn finding out who Faramir is and the reunion scene with Elrond, I don't know if it will live up to expectations. Well I have at least one more chapter until that is posted so I have time to revise. Glad you like the story.  
Ewan is hot= I am so glad you don't think it is boring. I sometimes fear that I keep going on and on about things and people lose interest. By the way, another good Faramir story is Equaniminty(sp?) by IceAngel. Very sweet.  
Siberia= I'm sorry but there really won't be more with Mithrandir in this fic. But I am considering a sort of sequel that will probably have him in it.  
AzNnEgGrOePnOi= Unfortunately, Boromir is very dead at this point and I only had room for that one little spirit-to-brother conversation.  
Silmarien= The light-heartedness will continue a bit, but I am not done with angst. Like angst. _Good _angst. Whoops, sorry, got a little spacey there. =D  
Narn= Wow, I hope I can live up to your expectations. Thanks for the huggle, I like all the encouragement I can get.  
Corinn and Eomer= Indeed they do.   
  
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          Faramir watched as Aragorn rode towards the Gate of Minas Tirith. Well, the barrier of Minas Tirith, for the Gate had been destroyed in the battle. Yet still Aragorn rode proudly, clad in black mail and a white mantle, wearing the Elfstone that Lady Galadriel had given him in Lothlorien. Faramir glanced over at Éowyn to see her reaction to the regal king.  
          Éowyn, though, paid Aragorn just as much attention as she did the others. She was very happy to see her brother, Éomer, riding grandly next to Aragorn. Éomer was her only living relative left and even though she knew he had survived the battle, she was relieved to see him with her own eyes. Also riding with Aragorn was Prince Imrahil, Mithrandir, Elladan and Elrohir, Legolas, Gimli, and four hobbits. Éowyn recognized Merry and Pippin, and figured that the other two, the ones riding closest to Aragorn, were the Frodo and Sam that Faramir had told her about.  
          Faramir turned from watching Éowyn to watch the king's procession. He happily saw that Elladan and Elrohir rode with Aragorn. It had been years since he had seen his foster brothers. //I wonder if they will recognize me? It would be great fun to see how long it takes them and Estel to figure it out.// Hurin, the Warden of the Keys who stood next to Faramir, wondered about the amused look the Steward had on his face.  
          Finally, a single trumpet rang out and silence fell over the crowd. Hurin and Faramir walked from the Gate followed only by four Gondorian soldiers who carried a black and silver casket. Faramir knelt before Aragorn. "The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office." He held out the white rod that symbolized the Stewardship. Aragorn took the rod, but gave it back to Faramir.  
          "That office is not yet ended and it will be yours and your heirs' for as long as my line shall last. Do now your office!"  
          Smiling, Faramir stood and spoke clearly so that all could hear him. "People of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold, one has come to claim the kingship again at last! Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Numenor. Shall he be King and enter the City and dwell there?" //And please don't ask me to repeat myself, I am already out of breath!// In one voice, the crowd roared their approval. Faramir continued. "Citizens of Gondor, the loremasters tell that it as the custom of old that the king should receive the crown from his father before he died; or if that might not be, that he should go alone and take it from the hands of his father in the tomb where he was laid. But since things must now be done otherwise, using the authority of the Steward, I have today brought forth from Raith Dinen the crown of Earnur the last king, whose days passed in the time of our forefathers of old."  
          The guards stepped forward and Faramir opened the casket. From it he brought forth the ancient crown, shaped like a helm except white, and the wings on either side were of pearl and silver in the likeness of a sea bird. Seven gems of adamant were set in the circlet and on its summit was set a single jewel of flaming light.  
          Aragorn took the crown from Faramir and held it up. "Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!" Out of the Great Sea to Middle earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world. They were the words that Elendil had spoken when he landed on the shores of Middle Earth, a refugee from Numenor. Then Aragorn handed the crown back to Faramir. For a moment, Faramir irrationally feared that Aragorn had decided not to be king, but his fears were put to rest when Aragorn spoke again. "By the labor and valor of many have I come into my inheritance. As such, I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir place it upon my head, for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory." As Frodo took the crown from Faramir, the Steward smiled. //Even in his greatest of triumphs, still Estel takes no credit.//  
          And so Mithrandir set the crown on Aragorn's head and as the new King stood, Faramir could see the sea-kings of old in him. For a moment there was a pause, then Faramir cried, "Behold the King!" The crowd broke out in cheers, trumpets were blown, and the King passed through the barrier into the City. He made his way to the Citadel and the banner of the White Tree and the Seven Stars was unfurled on the topmost tower. Yet there was one person in the city unhappy about the new king, and especially the new Steward. A dark figure melted into the shadows, already planning the layout of his attack.  
          

~*~

          Faramir watched as King Aragorn passed out judgements from his throne. //He is either loving this, or wishing he was back in the wild as a Ranger. Most likely a little of both.// In fact, seeing Aragorn work made Faramir very glad that he was not king, or even a Ruling Steward. Never had he wanted power like that. Faramir's face lit up when Éowyn entered the room quietly. He made his way through the crowd to her side. "Good morning, love," he whispered to her.  
          Éowyn smiled at him. "Good morning to you. What has happened so far today?"  
          "Oh, nothing much. King Aragorn decided to reward some warriors for bravery and such. And the guard that left his post and killed someone in order to try and save me from being burned alive is now the Captain of my personal guard, the White Company. The King also made me Prince of Ithilien."  
          Éowyn smiled and leaned closer to him. "Is that all? I suppose that will have to do." They both laughed. "Well, my love, I do believe my brother is next to be greeted." Faramir let his gaze leave Éowyn as he watched Aragorn talk to Éomer. The King of Gondor spoke of Eorl of Rohan who rode to Gondor's aid in ages past and of the friendship of the two peoples. Éomer then asked Aragorn to let the body of King Theoden lie in the tombs of the kings of Gondor until he had prepared a grave for him in Rohan. Éowyn turned to face Faramir. "I feel I must go back to Rohan and help my brother settle into his kingship. But I will return with Éomer to bring King Theoden's body back to his land."  
          "I understand. Just don't stay away too long, my love. I miss you already."  
          Suddenly someone behind them spoke. "Isn't that sweet! Rendil, why don't you say sweet things like that to me?"  
          "You already know how much I love you. Besides, if I said that to you, you would think I had lost my mind and you'd feed me another one of those concoctions of yours." Faramir turned around at the familiar voices. Before him smiled Iorwyn and Rendil, the latter of whom had his arm in a sling. Both were grinning at him.  
          "Well don't just stand there, Faramir. Introduce us to your lady friend."  
          Faramir chuckled in amusement. "Forgive me. Iorwyn, Rendil, this is Lady Éowyn daughter of Eomund of Rohan. Éowyn, these are old friends of mine, Rendil of Dol Amroth and his wife, Iorwyn of Minas Tirith."  
          A pleasure to meet you, Lady Éowyn. Rendil and I were wondering when Faramir would chose a nice girl to settle down with. Then, I heard of the kiss on the wall, so when Rendil returned from the last battle... "  
          "Rendil, you fought? I thought you had retired."  
          Rendil smiled sheepishly. "Well, I couldn't very well sit home when my friends were out fighting."  
          "He left against healer's orders too." Iorwyn shot her husband a glare. "But, as I was saying, when he returned, we decided to come and see if we could meet the woman who captured our Steward's heart."  
          "Do I pass inspection?"  
          Iorwyn looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes, I believe you do. We wish both of you the same happiness that we have had."  
          Faramir smiled and bowed slightly. "Thank you. I do hope that you will come to our wedding and visit us in Ithilien once in a while."  
          Rendil nodded. "We would love to. Just be careful, Iorwyn might give you some horrid-tasting medicine for a wedding gift. Ow!" Rendil smiled at Iorwyn's play-slap. "You shouldn't hit an injured man. I think you put back my recovery at least a week."  
          "I did not, now say good-bye, dear. I want to stop by mother's house to pick up a few things. Good-bye Faramir."  
          "Good-bye Iorwyn, Rendil. Travel safely." Faramir and Éowyn watched the couple walk off, Iorwyn pulling Rendil's good arm while he grumbled about having to see his in-laws. "They certainly are something, aren't they?"  
          "Indeed. They seem very nice. Strange, but nice."   
  
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Hope you all liked it!


	32. Chapter 32

PLEASE READ!!!!!!Alright here is the deal with this chapter. I had actually nearly finished Faramir's story when I realized something that really grated on my nerves. I had introduced a character, Lokir, who I made into this really nasty guy and I never did anything with him! That annoyed me to no end so I wrote this particular chapter in order to bring Lokir back for a bit. This chapter is not really necessary to the rest of the story, except one reference later, but I am working on a possible sequel in which this one little chapter plays a BIG part. SO it is up to you if you want to read it.

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            "...and there have been reports of orcs attacking small bands of travelers along the South Road by the River Erui." Aragorn sat at his desk listening to Faramir report. The Steward had declined a chair, having been stuck at his own desk for the whole day. Night had crept over Minas Tirith and stars shone through the windows of the uppermost study in the White Tower. 

            "Very well. Have Captain Wilain take a company to route out the orcs in that area and keep an... " Without warning, an arrow hissed past Aragorn's head, barely missing hitting him. The king ducked and rolled out of his chair. He reached for his sword, Anduril, cursing when he realized that he had left it leaning against the wall. The same wall that was now open, revealing a hidden doorway. //Of course, Denethor's hidden chamber. An assassin must have hidden there. How could I have been so stupid?// Aragorn quickly assessed the situation. He was unarmed, Anduril apparently taken by the assassin. Only Faramir stood between the assassin and the king.

            Faramir's eyes widened when he saw the assassin come out of the hidden doorway. Crazed eyes glared at him. "Lokir!" Indeed, it was the General, a man whose mind had always been twisted with hatred for Faramir and Aragorn. 

            "Oh look. The little Steward is protecting his king." 

            "What do you want Lokir?" 

            The General smiled evilly. "I should think that is obvious, even to you. Both of you are pathetic weaklings. Always worried about 'peace' and 'happiness', the 'good of the people'. It's disgusting! You lower taxes, give bread to the peasants. Gondor was fine until you two came and began *reforms*. Denethor would never have allowed the commoners to take precedence over the army."

            "The war is over, the army is not needed in the same way it was before."

            Both men had their swords drawn now, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Aragorn watched in frustration, not being able to do anything to help Faramir. Lokir gave a crazed laugh. "That is what you think. When I've killed you and your precious king, I will be able to make Gondor what it used to be. _I _will have control!"

            "You're mad!" Lokir laughed again and lunged at Faramir. Their swords clashed together, as Steward battled General. Aragorn began inching his way towards the door. He couldn't yell for the guards since to do so might break Faramir's concentration. But when he finally reached the door, he found it locked. //And it locks from the outside! Who designed this place?// The king called quietly to the door-guards but stopped when he saw a pool of red blood seep under the door. With a heavy heart, Aragorn realized that Lokir had killed the guards. Now all he could do was watch the fight unfold before him. 

Faramir and Lokir were evenly watched in strength and agility, but the General had been preparing for this fight, while Faramir was taken unaware and was unprepared for a fight to the death. Lokir took the initiative, attacking faster and faster, until it was all Faramir could do to parry each blow. Suddenly, Lokir kicked Faramir in the chest, throwing the Steward backward against the desk. The General brought his sword down at Faramir's head, but Faramir managed to turn aside in time, the sword cutting the desk instead. Angry, Lokir sped up his attacks. Aragorn watched in helpless horror as the insane General sliced the top of Faramir's left wrist, causing the Steward to lose his grip on his sword for a moment. That moment was all Lokir needed to disarm his opponent. Grinning triumphantly, Lokir raised his sword and brought it down to end Faramir's life. 

            To the General's surprise, though, Faramir ducked and lunged forward, causing Lokir to lose his balance and stumble. Faramir twisted around and came up between Lokir's arms, grabbing the sword with his right hand. He jabbed his elbow into the crook of the General's left arm, causing Lokir to lose his grip on the sword. Faramir twisted out pulling the sword with him, jerking Lokir's right arm awkwardly. The surprise and the pain made the General let go and Faramir swung the sword around, relieving Lokir of his head.

            A silence settled over the room as Aragorn made his way to Faramir's side. His chest heaving from the battle, Faramir threw the sword down. He hated killing, even a man such as Lokir. "Thank you, Faramir. I owe you my life." 

            Faramir smiled at Aragorn. "It was nothing, my lord. It is my job to protect the king." //And my brother. This is two you owe me Estel.//

            "Faramir, you are my friend. Please call me Aragorn. I want at least _someone_ to call me by my name. I get tired of people always 'my lord'ing me."

            "Very well, Aragorn. I suppose we should call someone to dispose of the General's body. I will find a servant."

            "The door is locked and the guards are dead."

            Faramir tried to doorknob and couldn't open it either. He turned to Aragorn. "Are you particularly fond of this door in any way?"

            Aragorn grinned as he realized what Faramir had in mind. "Not especially."

            "Good." It took a few hacks, but finally Faramir was able to cut through the door. As he stepped out, Aragorn spoke up hesitantly.

            "Faramir?"

            "Yes Aragorn?" 

            The king hesitated before asking, "Where did you learn how to do that? Disarming Lokir like you did at the end, I mean."

            Faramir smiled through the broken door. "I made it up." He disappeared down the hall. Aragorn shook his head, somewhat confused. He gathered Anduril from behind the hidden door, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that his Steward was hiding something.

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If you read it, thank you and I hope it wasn't too bad. Also, I would like to ask you all to read and maybe even review my poem that is based on a scene from Faramir's Story, about the woman who appears in Éowyn's dream. Just a shameless plug. 


	33. Chapter 33

Hey everyone! Sorry, but there is no reunion quite yet. That's the next chapter. 

Reviewer Responses

LadyIsabell=- I'm glad you picked my story to read too. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Acacia= You know, I almost didn't have that line in there. I decided at the last moment to put it in. And yes, a sequel is in the works, but I have other stories to finish before I can put it up.

Anita= It didn't ring a bell. I think Aragorn's tone deaf. =D

Lotrmatrixstarwarsfan= Thanks, I could never really be sure which one it was. I have two copies of LOTR and they both say that line differently. 

Anodien= Wow! Thanks for all your reviews! I'm sorry, I should have put a note in that chapter. Ada means 'Daddy' short for Adar-Father. All poems and songs besides the 'Seek for the Sword that was Broken' one belong to me. And yes, Aragorn is extremely dense, I guess cuz he doesn't really expect that his foster brother could be his Steward. I think Éowyn and Faramir are the best couple too, even better than Aragorn and Arwen! But that's just my Faramir-loving heart talking. And I am hoping to find time to read your Éowyn story soon.

Narn= I don't really know what to make of that chapter either, but I needed it in order to do something with Lokir's character and it is integral to one of the sequels I have planned. I'm glad you like my story.

~*~ denotes flashback

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            Faramir watched the road as the sun set. He felt lost among the other nobles, a great crowd that waited for the King's elven guests to arrive from the North. Faramir, as Steward, was privy to Aragorn's council and had been told that it was the Lady Arwen who was coming as well as her brothers, Lord Elrond and the nobles of Rivendell, as well as the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien. The Steward smiled as he recalled earlier that morning as he had tried to calm a jittery King. Aragorn had been running around trying to make everything perfect for his family's arrival, annoying the servants until they were ready to revolt.

~*~

            Faramir watched as the head chef threw up his hands and stormed out of the kitchen. "I cannot take it anymore! My lord Steward, please I beg of you, get his Highness the King out of my kitchens so that I can prepare a proper meal! If he does not stop distracting me I will not be able to finish in time even *if* the guests are not arriving until late evening!"

            "I will do my best, Deasaril." 

            As the Steward entered the kitchen he found Aragorn hovering over the assistant cook's shoulder as he was trying to make a stew. "Do not put too many spices in it, they don't like that. Oh, not that, it might not agree with them."

            "My lord Elessar?"

            "Just a minute Faramir."       

            "Aragorn!" The king looked up, startled. "Will you please leave that poor man alone, or else he will get so flustered that he will ruin the stew entirely!" 

            "But... "

            "No buts. It is not the king's place to be in the kitchen. Now, I will make sure that they do not spice the food too much, or water the wine down, or in any other way ruin the dinner, but you need to leave."

            Aragorn reluctantly agreed and the assistant gave Faramir a relieved look. The Steward then steered the king away from everyone and handed him off to Legolas and Gimli who were happy to oblige Faramir's request that they keep Aragorn busy. They were last seen heading to the wine cellar. Faramir had then decided it would be a good idea to ask Mithrandir to go with them to make sure the soon-to-be groom would be fully conscious in time for the wedding.

            The Steward then managed to give the cooks a list of his foster family's favorite foods and the recipes, kept Pippin and Merry away from the food by sending them after Aragorn, and dealt with the stream of council-members who were fretting about making a good impression on the elves. By tea-time he was exhausted. He was all for taking a long nap, but then Aragorn wanted his help picking out a different outfit for the wedding. Faramir observed a dozen different ensembles before Aragorn decided to wear the first thing he had tried on. 

            Then the King wished to see how the food was coming. Luckily the cooks were mostly done. To Aragorn's amazement, every dish was exactly what he had wanted. "Faramir, did you arrange all this?"

            "Well, I gave them a list of food and they did the work."

            "This is all their favorite foods! How on earth did you know?"

            Faramir shrugged. "I found an elvish recipe book in the library and picked out the ones I thought you would like." Aragorn raised an eyebrow since that hadn't really answered his question, but another servant interrupted them to ask about flower arrangements. As Aragorn began talking about table decorations, Faramir closed his eyes and sighed. //When Éowyn returns we are having a serious discussion about our wedding. Eloping is sounding better and better.//

~*~

            The Steward was pulled out of his thoughts when the first riders passed through the north gates of Minas Tirith. The twins led the way, Elladan carrying Rivendell's silver banner. Faramir saw Glorfindel riding with Erestor and the other elves from Imladris. After them came Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien. Both shone like bright stars, moreso than the usual iridescence of the elves. Finally, Lord Elrond rode through the gates bearing the sceptre of Annúminas. Arwen Undomiel rode beside him, and for the first time Faramir saw his foster sister. 

            Faramir watched as Elrond handed Aragorn the sceptre, the last heirloom of the old kings. He saw the sadness that crossed the elf lord's face as he laid Arwen's hand in Aragorn's, knowing that she would now be bound to a mortal life. Faramir wanted to comfort his Ada, but that would not be proper to do in the middle of a wedding. Though he desperately wanted to be with his family, he knew he would have to wait.

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Sorry about stopping there but it seemed to be the best place. More soon.


	34. Chapter 34

ALRIGHT!!! The chapter you've all been waiting (and waiting and waiting) for! The family reunion! I'm nervous, I hope it lives up to all your guys' expectations. I actually rewrote part of it to make it longer, and Lindë said it was good so I'll take her word for it. 

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            Faramir was not able to see Lord Elrond or the twins until the next evening. Work kept him busy, and he might not have even seen them that day, if Aragorn had not stopped him in the halls. "Faramir, will you come here for a moment? I wish for you to meet my family." Hiding a smile, Faramir followed him into the room. Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir were already there. Faramir shot his father a quick smile before putting on the façade of 'impersonal Steward'. //This should be fun.// "Faramir, this is my foster father, Lord Elrond Halfelven, and his sons, Elladan and Elrohir. Father, this is my Steward, Faramir son of Denethor."

            Elrond hid a smile at the oblivious looks on all three of his sons' faces. None of them had recognized Tir yet. Faramir gave Elrond a small wink before bowing cordially. As he rose, he opened his mouth as if to say a polite word of greeting. Instead, Faramir let a grin spread across his face and embraced Elrond, who happily returned his son's hug. ^Ada!^ he cried out in Sindarin. ^How are you? I have missed you so much! How is everything in Imladris? How are Glorfindel and Eluial and all the others?^

            Aragorn's jaw dropped open. "Ada? What? Huh?" Elladan and Elrohir, on the other hand, realized instantly who Faramir was. The Steward nearly suffocated as the two elves intently began squeezing the air out of their brother.  

            "Tir! I can't believe it!" Elladan turned and punched Aragorn's shoulder. "Estel, why didn't you tell us that Tir was your Steward?"

            "Tir? Huh? What? Who?" By then Faramir was trying so hard not to laugh that his stomach hurt. Elrond also grinned, pleased to finally see Aragorn speechless. 

            Finally, Faramir took pity on his bewildered brother. "I was wondering if you would ever realize who I was since I know that you thought I looked familiar. You would think a Ranger would figure it out easily, wouldn't you Ada?"

            "Yes, although I have to admit, you have changed these past few years. If I hadn't already known who you were, I myself would have a hard time identifying you without a hint."

            Aragorn managed to regain his voice. "Tir? Is it really you?" Faramir nodded. "That is what was so familiar about that move you used on General Lokir! I can't believe I didn't remember that!"

            "Well, it has been a few years."

            Elrond stood next to Faramir. "Indeed, it has been long. I have missed you, son."

            The Steward smiled. "I have missed you too Ada." 

Elrond returned Tir's smile. The smile turned into a frown when the elf lord's sharp eyes saw the nasty gash on Faramir's wrist. "I see you have had a recent unpleasant encounter. And I do not believe you had this looked at, I think it might be infected."

            Faramir winced slightly at his father's examination. "It is nothing, just a little trouble with assassins."

            "Assassins!" exclaimed all three elves. 

            "Don't worry, no one was hurt. Well, the assassin was, but I don't think you care about him."

Before his family's overprotectiveness could get too bad, Aragorn changed the subject. "Everything is fine now, there is nothing to worry about. Elladan, Elrohir, perhaps Faramir would like to hear news from Rivendell." The twins quickly obliged, telling Faramir everything down to the last minute detail. Elrond and Aragorn stood by and watched the three brothers amusedly. 

            As the others were embroiled in the latest elven gossip, Aragorn spoke to his father. "I see now why you wouldn't tell me who his father was."

            "I couldn't have you marching into Minas Tirith and murdering the Ruling Steward. That would not have gone over well with the people of Gondor."

            "I never liked Denethor. He always rubbed me the wrong way, even when I was in his father's service. And now that I know that he... Now I hate him. I want him to die again, even more painfully."

            "I know how you feel, son. Even now I can tell that Tir still suffers. Mithrandir tells me that he refuses to speak about what happened, to anyone. It is not wise, Estel, to hold your emotions inside like he has."

            "I can understand that he doesn't want the whole city to know of it, but I see that you are right, father. I will see if he will talk to me."

            "As will I."

            Soon Elladan and Elrohir left to find Legolas and Aragorn wandered off in search of his wife. Faramir would have gone too, for he still had work to do, but Elrond would not let him. "You look exhausted Tir. How much rest did you get last night?"

            "I had seven hours of sleep, but I did not get much rest at all."

            Elrond frowned, concerned. "You have been having nightmares."

            Faramir laughed, but you didn't need to be far-sighted to know it was forced. "Of course. Anyone would have nightmares after dealing with a nervous groom and frantic servants all day." It was the closest to lying to his father that he had ever come.

            Elrond looked at him disapprovingly. "Tir... "

            "I do not wish to talk about it," stated Faramir firmly. 

            "You need to." Faramir lifted his chin resolutely. Elrond sighed. "I have forgotten how stubborn you are, Tir." The Steward faked a wounded look, staring at his father with big gray puppy-dog eyes, the ones that had always gotten him what he wanted as a child. The elf lord laughed. "I have missed you so much, son. Rivendell is boring without you or Estel running around, getting in trouble.

            Faramir smiled. "I wish I could have visited, but my duties have kept me busy since my return to Minas Tirith. I have missed the House, the waterfalls, the twins, my friends."

            Elrond raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"

            "Especially you, Ada." The elf lord pulled his son into a hug. The tender moment was interrupted by a loud crash and a yell, followed by laughter.

            Elrond rolled his eyes. "Let us see. That was Elladan's who-did-that-I'm-going-to-hurt-them yell, the laughter of an elf and a dwarf, which means Legolas and Gimli, and I heard Elrohir's I-didn't-do-it-but-I-wish-I-had-thought-of-that laugh. I believe I should go mend any trouble they have caused. Hopefully it wasn't too expensive." 

            "And how likely is that?"

            The elf lord sighed and rubbed his head. "I knew I should have made them stay at home."

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I hope you liked it!


	35. Chapter 35

Alright, I think I will post the rest of this story tonight. I think there will be only one or two more chapters, depending on how I divide the rest up. 

Reviewer Responses

Siberia= You're right, It could have been longer, but I just couldn't find the words or the emotion to make it so. But I never said anything about Faramir never seeing Elrond again. There is still nearly three years before Elrond goes over the sea, time enough for a sequel. 

Susan= yup more is coming, both in this story and hopefully some sequels.

Jackie= I am so glad you think it fits so well. That was one of my main goals, to make the story able to fit into Tolkien's work, so that it really _could_ have happened.

A.E. Hall= I feel the same way about elves. Some people make them seem very impersonal or snobby. I don't think they are that way, and tried to show that. Glad you liked it!

Elf Ears= Unfortunately it is coming to a close. But I hope you have enjoyed it and I hope you'll read the sequels when I write them.

Acacia- Gandalf: I resent that *hic* comment that I *hic* get drunk. Wizards *hic* don't get drunk. *hic* Me: Well, there you have it from the wizard himself. =D And don't worry, I plan on definitely more Faramir stories. And look, the puppy-dog eyes worked, I've updated quicker than I planned. Hmmmmm. Hope you like this chapter!

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            Aragorn sighed in frustration. For over two weeks he had tried to speak with Faramir personally, with no success. The Steward's busy schedule, as well as his own, made it nearly impossible for Aragorn to catch his brother by himself. Even when he did, Faramir always managed to find a way to keep from talking. Elladan and Elrohir met the same problem when they tried. 

            "Your Majesty, the King of Rohan and his escort has entered the City." Aragorn acknowledged the messenger and rose from his throne. Beneath him, he saw Faramir nearly jump up from the Steward's chair in his excitement. //Apparently he is anxious to see a certain White Lady.// The King and the Steward stood at the door of the White Tower and Aragorn amused himself by counting how many times Faramir twisted the Steward's ring around his finger. He was over a hundred when King Eomer finally rode up to the Citadel, Éowyn by his side. They dismounted and walked up to greet Aragorn and Faramir. 

            "King Elessar, Steward Faramir. It is a pleasure to see you again, my friends." Eomer shook their hands firmly. Was it Faramir's imagination, or was the King of Rohan trying to break his hand? And was he glaring at him?

            "The pleasure is ours, King Eomer. If you and your sister would follow me, a breakfast has been prepared for your arrival." The two Kings walked ahead as Éowyn took Faramir's proffered arm.

            "It brings me joy to see you again, my love," Faramir whispered to her.

            "I have been counting the days." 

            They walked a few more steps before Faramir spoke again. "You told your brother about my offer of marriage, didn't you?" 

            "You noticed. Don't worry, he is just being overly protective. He will get over it."           

            Faramir glanced at the Rohan King's muscular arms and broad back. "I hope so."

            Éowyn and Faramir walked hand in hand through the streets of the fifth level. It was late afternoon. The whole morning had been taken up with meetings and protocol, but Aragorn had excused Faramir after lunch so that he could give Éowyn a tour of the lower levels of the city. Starting on the first level, the couple strolled through the streets, enjoying each other's company.

            Faramir introduced Éowyn to a few of his friends. Most were of low birth, but Faramir ignored that fact as he always did. Éowyn found it fascinating how he tried to help the peasants. She found that the people loved Faramir for his kindness and their loyalty knew no ends. It especially delighted Éowyn to watch Faramir with the peasant children. He appeared to always have candy to give to them, and the children seemed to adore him. //He will be a wonderful father one day.// Éowyn smiled at the thought. Soon they would be married and the children Faramir played with would be their own. The once proud shieldmaiden found herself dreaming of having her own family with the man she loved.

            Éowyn sighed in contentment as she listened to Faramir tell her about the fifth level. "Most of the people living here are traders and craftsmen. Now that the war is over and Sauron is defeated, the demand for luxury goods has gone up and the economy... " Faramir stopped suddenly. Puzzled, Éowyn looked at him. The Steward's smile was gone, replaced by a look of anger, sadness, and something else. Recognition? Faramir's eyes were hard and Éowyn glanced to where they looked. Her eyes settle on a blacksmith's stall just in time to see the blacksmith hit a young boy who looked to be his son. The man was yelling as well.

            "You good-for-nothing wretch! Can't you do anything right? You're a worthless piece of trash, you know that?" The smith shoved his son against the hard, iron table, cracking the boy's ribs. "How could the Valar have cursed me with such a son? You stupid, miserable child!" The blacksmith raised his hand to hit his son with a bar of iron when, without warning, he found himself shoved against the wall, a sword to his throat. Rage-filled eyes scowled at him. To the smith's surprise, he found that the man was the Steward of Gondor. And the Steward was not happy.

            "Faramir!" Éowyn grabbed the hand that held the sword. The look Faramir had on his face kept her from saying anything else. The hatred, the pure unadulterated hatred in his eyes scared her. She had never seen Faramir like this before. But Éowyn's touch pulled Faramir to his senses.           

            He glared at the blacksmith. "You are lucky that I do not kill in cold blood." Shoving the man away, Faramir turned and helped the young boy to his feet. "Do you have a mother, any brothers or sisters?"

            "No sir."

            Faramir nodded and put a supporting arm around the boy's shoulders. "Come on, I am not leaving you here with this monster." He began leading the boy away, followed by Éowyn.

            "Where are you taking my son?"

            The Steward whirled around and glowered at the smith. "I am taking him to where he will be safe from men like _you_. You will never lay a hand on this boy again. I swear it." Faramir turned from the man and stormed away as quickly as he could with the young lad.

            Éowyn was still shaken from the Steward's outburst but managed to think clearly. "Faramir, where are we going to take him? We can't go to the Houses of Healing, that would be the first place that _man_ would look." 

            "I will take him to the palace. You go to the houses and bring back a healer." Éowyn nodded and when they reached the sixth level she went to the Houses while Faramir took the boy to the palace.

            Faramir managed to get the boy to his room without meeting anyone. "You will be safe here."

            "But my father. . . "

            "Your father will never hurt you again."

            The boy had tears in his eyes. He had to be only eight years old, small for his age, with dark brown hair and green eyes. "But you don't understand. I deserved it. I'm small, too small to help father. I'm worthless" The boy's words sounded so hopeless, so... familiar. Faramir couldn't take it anymore.

            "Stay here. Lady Éowyn will be back with a healer. I must... I must go get something. Don't leave this room." The Steward stumbled out of the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes. He had to get out, had to think. It was too much, too much to handle. Opening his eyes, Faramir began walking shakily down the hall. He needed fresh air, suddenly the palace seemed stifling. 

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I just like tormenting people don't I? 


	36. Chapter 36

Only one more chapter after this! Hope you like it!

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            Éowyn bit back a frustrated cry. After leaving the healer with the boy she had begun searching for Faramir and couldn't find him. //This stupid palace is too big, he could be anywhere!// "My lady, are you alright?" She turned to see a dark-haired elf walk up to her.

            Elrond had seen the distress on Éowyn's face, and he had a nagging feeling that it was about his son. "My lord, I can't find Faramir."

            "Where you not walking together?"

            "Yes, but then we split up when I went to get a healer, and he came here and now I can't find him."

            "Why do you need a healer?" 

            Éowyn hesitated. She knew that this elf was Lord Elrond, Aragorn's foster father, and a great elf lord. //Well, if King Aragorn trusts him, then I will.// "We were walking in the fifth level when we saw a man hitting and yelling at his son. Faramir stopped the man and we brought the boy to the palace, but I went to the Houses of Healing to get a healer because the boy was hurt and we didn't know how badly. I am worried about Faramir, though. His anger at the man scared me; I have never seen Faramir so... so _enraged_! I feel that something is wrong, but I don't know what."

            Elrond felt sick. //He pushed back the past and now it is forced back on him in the worst of ways.// "Lady Éowyn, we must find him. Start looking in the northern rooms, I will get the King and meet you there." Éowyn did not question the elf lord's command. The look on his face told her that there was more to this then she thought. Éowyn felt her chest tighten in fear. //What is happening? Please, Valar, let me find him. Let me help him!//

            Lord Elrond nearly ran to find Aragorn. The King was speaking with Eomer in his personal library. "Forgive me for interrupting, lords, but I need to speak with you Estel. It is urgent." Eomer nodded in understanding and left the room. 

            "What is wrong, Father?" Elrond told him everything Éowyn had said and confessed his own worries. 

            "We must find him, Estel. Something tells me that Tir's future is being decided. He is facing something that will either make him stronger... or destroy him."

            Aragorn and Elrond met up with Éowyn near the second floor green room. "Aragorn I can't find him, I don't know what to do. I am so worried."

            "I know. I think we should search separately, it would go faster..." Aragorn stopped speaking when Elrond held up a hand for silence. The elf lord had paled, blood draining from his face.

            Lord Elrond listened closely to the sound he heard coming from down the hall. His heart flip-flopped. //Please no. No, not again. Please, not again, it can't be happening again!// 

            "Father, what is it?"

            "He is down this hall. We must hurry." As they neared the room, both Aragorn and Éowyn heard what Elrond did. Someone was singing in Sindarin. It was Faramir. It was the same song that he had sung as a boy in Rivendell. Aragorn blanched as he heard the words. Words without hope.

**_ Darkness approaches,_**

**_I try to hide,_**

**_But shadows call_**

**_Stronger than I._****__**

****

**_Silent plea,_**

**_Ignored by all,_**

**_Shadow grows,_**

**_Darkness falls._**

****

**_Who shall survive,_**

**_End comes to light._**

**_Hope shall save those_**

**_Lost to night_**_.___

**_Hope comes,_**

**_The dawn is nigh_**

**_Yet the shadow, the shadow,_**

**_Is stronger than I._****__**

            Éowyn could not understand the words, not knowing how to speak Sindarin, but her heart tightened in fear at the tone. Forgetting all proper behavior, she picked up her skirts and ran into the room. Aragorn began to follow her, but was stopped by Elrond. The King gave his father a frustrated look. Elrond shook his head. "I have attempted to talk to him, as have you and the twins. None of us has succeeded. We must let her try."

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You didn't think you saw the last of that song, did you?


	37. Chapter 37 The End

I can't believe that this is the last chapter. I'm kinda sad to see it end, but  I'll content myself with writing sequels. So here it is, the end of 'Faramir's story'.

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            Faramir stood on the balcony, staring out over the city, yet looking at nothing. He quit singing when he heard someone behind him, but he didn't turn. "Faramir?" It was Éowyn. "Faramir, what is wrong? Please, tell me." Her concern for him brought tears to the Steward's eyes. 

            "I nearly killed that man. I _wanted_ to kill him." 

            Éowyn knew he meant the blacksmith. "I understand, he was hurting his son..."

            "No, you _don't_ understand!" Faramir gripped the balcony's stone railing. "I didn't want to kill him to protect the boy. I wanted revenge!" His knuckles turned white from his grasp on the rail. "I wanted revenge for every bruise, every cut, every broken bone, every _death_ that was caused by fathers like that." Faramir let go of the railing and turned to face Éowyn, unwanted tears tracing pathways down his cheeks. "I wanted revenge for the three years of pain, the two years of silence, the _eight years_ of exile! I wanted revenge, because you should not be wishing for death when you are only ten-years old!" Faramir could no longer hold himself up, collapsing to his knees with his arms tightly crossing his chest as if in hopes of stopping the anguish of his heart from overcoming him. //Please make it stop. Please!//

            Éowyn stood there, stunned and horrified. The horrible truth of Faramir's past made her want to run away. She couldn't deal with this, she didn't know how. The moment that thought crossed her mind, Éowyn pushed it away. Her love was hurting, she had to help him, had to at least try. Éowyn knelt beside Faramir, wrapping her arms around him. She pressed her cheek against his, a cheek scarred by the hand of his father. "I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry."

            Faramir's breath was ragged from holding back tears. "My father hated me. He always hated me. I tried so hard to gain his love, or even just his acceptance, but still he hated me. And I never knew why. I never knew why he loved and cherished Boromir, and then tried to kill me. Why? Why didn't he love me?" 

            His grief and agony pierced Éowyn's heart. "Oh Faramir." She stroked his hair. "He loved you, he must have! Maybe he never quite knew it himself. Perhaps he refused to let himself love you out of fear or arrogance. Sometimes it is hard to listen to your heart when you have trained your mind to think otherwise. And from what I have heard, your father's mind was twisted beyond his control."

            Faramir looked up at Éowyn, tears in his eyes, tears he still would not let fall. "Deep in my heart I know that you speak the truth. I saw a glimmer of it at the end, in a vision before he died. But I don't know if I truly believe he loved me, or if it is just a desperate hope that leads me astray." Éowyn did not answer, _could_ not answer. "I thought all this was behind me. I never wanted to think about it again." 

            "You cannot run away from the past. It will slowly destroy you unless you face it."

            Faramir's voice was now a whisper. "I don't know if I can. I have not the strength or will to face it alone." 

            Éowyn smiled softly and stroked his cheek, brushing her thumb lightly across his scar. "You are not alone, min léof. You will never be alone." Her love broke down his last barriers, and for the first time in twenty-six years, Faramir let himself truly cry.

~*~

            Faramir stood among the ashes of the House of Stewards, the final resting place of his father. Burned along with Denethor, the charred timbers had been cleared away, leaving only the blackened stone beds, including the one upon which Denethor had died. That table had been inscribed with the likeness of a palantir, the instrument of Denethor's madness. Faramir took a deep breath, and knelt on one knee before the table. "Where death takes men, I do not know, but I need to speak. Father, your heart and thoughts are mysteries to me, mysteries that I will never solve. But wherever you are, know this." He paused. "I forgive you. I will never forget what you did to me, but if I am to be different than you were, then I must forgive you and move on. You hurt me, not just in body, but in soul. But I forgive you. Because you are my father, and nothing you did can change that. I love you, I always have, and when you love someone you forgive them for their mistakes. Now, I only hope that your soul finds the peace it was denied in life. Farewell, father." 

            He stood and closed his eyes, a great burden lifted from his shoulders. A light breeze blew through his hair, a gentle kiss brushing his forehead. Faramir smiled and turned to Éowyn who waited for him on the Silent Street. The Steward of Gondor and his love walked away from the Hallows of the Dead towards the glistening White City. The past was at rest. Now it was time for the future. 

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IMPORTANT! I will update once more in order to answer reviews and such, so look for that. I hope you enjoyed this story, and thank you to everyone who reviewed! 

By the way, 'min léof' means 'my beloved' in Rohirric/Old English, in case you wanted to know.

**Addition**

I am adding the reviewer responses to this chapter in order to get rid of that last bit. I'm also not going to add anymore, sorry.

Reviewer Responses

Hi everyone! I am soooo sorry it has taken this long to finish this up, but with everything going on in life, I haven't had the time. So here are the answers to some of the reviews. If I don't get everyone who reviewed, sorry! I'm not the most eloquent of people and sometimes don't know what to say.  
Acacea= I wish I could have written more too, but unfortunately my brain gets in the way. =D Sequel may have a little bit of Elrond and Faramir father/son stuff but mostly it's angst on Éowyn's part.  
Susan= like I told acacia, if you like Éowyn worried, you'll like the sequel.  
Caroly= I really tried to show the horrors of abuse. Not having experienced it personally, I'm glad you thought I did a good job with it.  
Anodien= Maybe we should call Aragorn the speechless spaz! He does seem like it doesn't it. Thanks for reviewing so much, you've really encouraged me. Good luck with your own stories, they are sooo good!  
Elf Ears= I like the blacksmith's son too. I even wrote a poem about him which I also put up on ff.net. Glad you liked it!  
The proud Canadian= I'm so glad you like my story. I hope you'll like the sequels.  
Fan81981= I agree, Faramir is seen in the wrong light because of the movie. Sorry about, Boromir, I don't really know how to write him. At least he's not a sadistic madman like I've seen in some stories. *shudders at the memory*  
A.E.Hall= It just seemed right to put the song back in. And I felt that facing his past would be a good ending. I didn't know any other way to end it!  
The evil witch queen= I hate when stories end too. I guess that's why I keep writing long ones and I like *reading* long ones. And don't worry, I will write more. (eventually)  
Nihtfyr= Thanks for reviewing so much. And unfortunately some people will take anything as slash. That's why I put the warning, just for them. Yes, angst is *very* good.  
Narn= I didn't worry, you are a very faithful reviewer. *Elladen gives Narn some fish tied with string* See, my mini-Balrog even likes you and he's picky. I hope the sequels live up to your expectations.  
Iavala= My computer is evil too. So is ff.net cuz I keep trying to read stories and they keep saying that the site is overloaded.  
Thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed "Faramir's story". There _is_ a sequel in the making and I think it is almost done, but it may take some time. Until then, Namarie!  
Lirenel


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